


Odyssey

by MindTrove



Series: Wolf and Falcon [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark Solas, F/M, Sequel, Solas isn't very nice, i guess, more annoying than dark, other stuff i can't think of but will probably add at a later date, sequel to Promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6637390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindTrove/pseuds/MindTrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"With the Inquisitor's sudden disappearance many look to her daughter to continue where her mother left off."</p><p>But the Dread Wolf is a god, and Ramia will need more than a simple army to protect Thedas. </p><p>With the sentinel Abelas' help, they head north to seek out an ancient relic that slumbers beneath Estwatch. A race against time to reach it before Solas does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter~1

**Author's Note:**

> Well if you're reading this after reading Promise thank you! I hope you enjoyed it and will also enjoy this story too.
> 
> (This the sequel to my story Promise and follows after it's events, unless you read that none of this story will make sense.)
> 
> For either a reminder (or not) here are links if you are curious what my Inquisitor and her daughter look like:
> 
> Moro: http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/morolavellan  
> http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/tagged/moro-screencaps  
> Ramia: http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/ramialavellan  
> http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/tagged/ramia-screencaps
> 
> The idea for this follow-up to Promise was inspired by a couple of authors in the Solavellan fandom: Namelessshe and EmmG although I want to do my best to do my own spin on the familiar subject. If you haven't read their stories they're a must if you partial to a darker take on Solas' character.

The sky was in a constant orange hue, like a sun always at the cusp of setting but never quite making its descent. A quiet hum vibrated through the air. Silent enough to ignore but in this desolate place between the fade and the physical world however, it nagged in the corner of your mind and thrummed against your ears. 

The one piece of interest among the floating ruins and landscapes was a single castle. It looked like something out of Tevinter almost, golden and magnificent. The crystal etched into its features, differentiating it from the designs of those human magisters and something closer to Arlathan wonders. It was beautiful.

She despised it.

Moro looked up in disdain at the grandiose castle, ignorant of the pain clenching her hand brought. The fingers bloody and bruised from countless attempts to smash down the eluvian Solas had trapped her in. It’s shattered pieces all but left.

Solas. A part of her wanted to believe this some cruel joke of a dream. That she was still in the humble bedchamber she laid with him in. Their child close by, tucked away and safe as she gave in again to the old itch she could never scratch. Not when it came to Solas. 

Perhaps that was where her first mistake was. Giving into her loneliness, that one weakness she could never rid herself of. The moment she allowed that vulnerability to make itself known to Solas she should have realised her blunder. He had believed her a cruel being who saw him as nothing but her bitter rival after so many years being apart, and she ruined that façade the moment she softened at his sweet words and hungry touch.

And here she was, tricked by the trickster. Perhaps she was deserving of her fate. 

“Mamae?”

Moro supposed she could take some small relief to know she wasn’t alone.

“Don’t worry da’ean. We won’t be here long, I will get us out of here.”

Laisa stared up with wide curious eyes pulling particles of the air around her as they danced across her fingers. Moro knew that look and behaviour too well. While she had suspected Laisa may be ancient like her father, the unsettling swiftness with which she had come into her magic was one sign she had not expected. Back when she still had the anchor she could feel it, the thin veil surrounding Skyhold made Laisa much more tuned to the oddities around the large fortress.

At times she did not know how to handle Laisa, and when she became like this? It was not as severe in the physical world. There she would just space out and speak in strange cryptic ways that set the hairs on her neck to stand. But here...

Her connection and magic was stronger, strong enough that she need not be a mage to feel it.

“There isn’t a way out.”

Moro gave a short nervous laugh, stroking the girl’s hair, searching her eyes but finding them still far off looking through the castle more than at it.

“Don’t be silly.” She chided softly, looking at the castle herself. Small voices inside her confirming the girl’s words. Moro rejecting them and burying them deep in the recesses of her mind like she always had done when the voices of the well told her things she didn’t want to hear. “There is…we just have to find it.”

Moro crossed the steps that led to the large entrance of the castle, Laisa following close behind. What glistened from a distance, that she had believed to be a door was not such. Long threads of diamonds glowed and glistened across the entire archway. Pulling them apart to pass through, they clattered together, echoing like chime bells. The entrance hall was beyond grand, putting the Winter Palace itself to shame in its splendour. Rows of gold marbled pillars stretched the grand hall, the floor seeming untouched as she saw her visage reflected off the polished perfect marble. 

A long the walls were different depictions of the goddess Sylaise. Sculpture, paintings…if the artistic form existed it was done in the goddesses’ image.

Considering where this place had been connected to, she could only assume this a gift to the Hearthkeeper by June himself. She would have been shocked at such ostentatious gestures to prove one’s affections, but she suspected to them this was a mere bauble in their eyes. Expected almost.

Many doorways emulating the one she arrived through surrounded the hall, the repeated sound of chimes sung through and echoed across to her ears. Moro jumped at the sound, given that Laisa stood beside her and could not have been responsible for the interrupted silence. 

Dozens of elves entered the palace, all barefaced. Save the lone elf who led their party. He wore robes similar to that of her keeper many years ago, Elgar’nan’s golden vallaslin etched clear on his tanned face. His aged appearance confirming her suspicious that he was no ancient, but mortal just as she was, and Dalish.

The contempt with which he regarded her revealed that he worked for Solas. That he was a foe and a traitor. Either an arrogant martyr or a fool.

The man carried himself like a keeper would, which only made her dislike him even more. Pulling Laisa behind her as he approached, his staff used both for intimidation as well as an aid. He walked with a slight limp, and didn’t miss the small groan in the back of his throat when he settled in front of her.

“An'daran Atish'an Inquisitor. I am Yara.” The elvhen mage made no attempt at smiles or gestures of friendliness. His frown strong and constant. “We have not met.”

He spoke with a gravelly undertone that was particularly noticeable at the end of his words. He stood tall and proud, with an authority that Moro could only guess meant he held some important role within Solas’ flock.

“What do you want?” Moro growled. Yara noticed the way her hand clutched tighter upon the young child at her side. With a sneer and a wave of his hand, he walked past Moro climbing up the flight of stairs that led to a large stained glass window. A large garden could be seen below.

“You have nothing to fear from me. I am loyal to the Dread Wolf.” His blasé retort still left Moro unsettled as the keeper continued to gaze out the window. Clearly feeling no need to show any form of respect by speaking to her face to face. “He would not want harm to come to you or his legacy.”

Legacy? Moro didn’t like those choice of words. She looked down at the child at her side, her small hands clutching tightly against her clothes. Laisa’s eyes stared intently and cautiously at the time-worn mage before them. Her daughter clearly didn’t like him, and Laisa liked everyone. Which meant he was for certain not to be trusted. Said mage turned with a stab of his staff to the ground.

“To be candid Inquisitor, I have no desire to be here at all. Playing bodyguard to the undeserving such as yourself is hardly what I would call making good use of my time.” He continued to regard Moro with an upturned sneer. “Considering other selective candidates…perhaps I was the best choice.” This was said more to himself that to the two elves before him. He made his way further up the stairs, waving a hand as a gesture of farewell as he made his way to some unknown corner of the palace.

“I suggest making yourself comfortable, you won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you wish to send scouts there Lavellan? Most of the Dalish and City Elves within Fereldan have flocked to Solas’ banner. There will be conflict if they are spotted.”  
“I understand but they will know I suspect that and send human scouts instead. No, I will not fall for their bluff.” 

Ramia stared at the war table before her, her brows furrowed in concentration and consideration for the tactics to be made. Despite the disbanding of the Inquisition all those years ago, her mother’s disappearance left all who opposed Solas at a loss. They relied too heavily on her and now look to her daughter to carry the mantle in the resistance against the Dread Wolf.

The last few months since the incident at June’s temple had been hectic. Skyhold scoured for any signs of spies within its ranks, letters sent and plans forwarded. It had been laborious, a trial on Ramia’s abilities. Both to how much of a leader she could be, and the strength of her endurance to carry such a large and heavy burden.

Saving the world was a bitch.

Heir nodded in understanding to her orders, leaving the war room. 

“Thank you again Commander.”  
“For what?”  
“You had been living comfortably before I reached out to you.” A soft chuckle prompted Ramia to live her gaze from the map.

“Your mother wasn’t the friendliest person I’ll admit. But she helped me in more ways than one. I owe a lot to her. If my services are needed once again I’m happy to lend my sword.” 

Ramia smiled up at the ex-templar. With Leliana as Divine and Josephine Montilyet safely up north in Antiva she was reluctant to reach out to them for help. Contacting her mother’s old companions and advisors was both difficult and nerve wracking. Having been a child during her time with the Inquisition at the height of its power, she never paid much attention to her many comrades. Save Solas.

“Have you contacted anyone else?” Cullen Enquired, signalling for them both to leave the room to escort her back to her mother’s- her bedchambers. They stood in the great hall, Ramia standing casually at the door that led up to her room, face serious but hopeful.

“I have some letters waiting for me, one sent from Kirkwall. I can only assume it’s from Varric, although I’m not surprised he wrote me back.”  
“True.” Cullen chuckled lightly. “His face did light up when the Inquisitor instructed you call him uncle. I assume you addressed him as such in your letter?”  
“Of course.” Ramia giggled. “I should see what other letters are waiting for me.” Her smile faltered slightly, hands fiddling together as worry bubbled up. “It’s probably too much to hope Dorian responded…”

“Tevinter is far Ramia. He will respond. Have faith.” Ramia mustered up a smile for the Commander, bidding him goodnight and retiring to her room. 

If her mother could see what had become of her room she probably would have given Ramia a good clip around the ear. Ramia wasn’t as tidy or well-kept as her mother was. The bed was in disarray, and the desk was a state of organised chaos. Luckily Ramia only offered herself one handmaiden to see to her room which meant less prying eyes to see her bad habits. 

She dropped harshly into the seat at the desk, pensive as her eyes scanned the endless messy pile of papers before honing in on one particular spot and shoving her hand inside. She pulled out a handful of letters, precisely the ones she sought.

She was glad to hear from Varric that all still seemed well in Kirkwall, recovery aside. Unfortunately as she suspected, elves within the city were scarce. She was sure that the same would be mentioned in her other letters, soon the south would be vulnerable and ripe for the picking. Which was why she was so determined to hear back from Dorian. If the worst came to it, the wisest course of action would be to take the majority of her forces and make for the north where Solas’ reach was weakest. 

But that couldn’t be done till she heard from Minrathos.

He was playing the waiting game she was sure. These last few years spent strengthening his power, taking what he could from ancient ruins all over southern Thedas before making moves to conquer it. 

She pulled out the map she had found months before of her mothers, marked in several locations. One of them she realised was of Arlathan Forest. Her eyes widened in realisation and she immediately scrambled to her feet taking a coal marker and scuffing out the X to the north. 

“Mother…how did you find all this out?” She whispered. If a foci was found in June’s temple, Ramia could only suspect these other locations housed the same artefacts or something similar of the like. There were only two other spots marked, one of them in green and the other red. The green mark had several lines and symbols surrounding it, like a sense of urgency was placed upon its location.

“My lady?”

A stout human women peeked over the railing, hesitant to interrupt Ramia’s intense scouring of the desk before her.

“Oh Renee, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in.”  
“It’s no bother, I thought I would see to your rooms. You are usually out and about at this time.”  
“Not tonight I’m afraid! Please don’t bother with the room, it’s late and you should rest.”

Renee gave a small nod of her head, returning back the way she came.

“Renee?”  
“Yes my dear?”  
“Do you know anything about Estwatch?”  
“It’s an island off near Wycome. Lawless so I’ve heard, given that raider more or less dominate the port there….why do you ask?”

“Just idle thought. Goodnight Renee.”  
“Goodnight dearie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mamae! Your room’s so pretty!”

If Moro didn’t despise her current residence she probably would have agreed. The servants that slowly arrived in droves over what had felt like weeks, possibly months had kept her from entering this room. Spitting elvhen through their teeth for her to go away as they shuffled to and fro from the room.

The servants put up with her at best, and she had done nothing to endear them to her. She had suspected at the beginning they didn’t touch or address her much out of some underlining fear of what punishment awaited them if they raised the Dread Wolf’s ire. 

However, after an attempt at taking her daughter away before the evening meal for a bath resulted in a severed finger, the servants of this palace learnt the only anger they should refrain from tempting was her own.

These last many weeks had clearly been spent getting this room into liveable conditions. A large alter on one corner of the room had been converted into a fireplace, no doubt for her comfort. Moro was certain the elvhen of Arlathan’s time had no need of such things to keep their homes warm. In fact, a lot of the furnishings within the room seemed very familiar. 

What unsettled her was the fact that none of it resembled her room in Skyhold. No, it was much more familiar than that. The browns and deep reds used to colour the room resembled more the internal aravels of her life with her clan. 

Her stomach turned, her lips curling in disgust. How dare he do this? Delve into memories he no longer belong in knowing and using it to decorate her prison.  
That’s all this was. A prison, no amount of familiarity and beauty would change the fact that he has locked her up like an animal.

“Mother…?” 

Moro kneel down, mustering up as warm a smile as she could for her daughter. It did nothing to ease the young child who could sense her mother’s distress and pain.

“You don’t have to pretend to be happy…” 

Moro tutted, bringing the young girl into a long hug. More to comfort herself. When she released her Laisa ran for the bed. The heavy furs draped all over the large crib beckoned her, resistance to not lie across and let sleep take her weak.

Laisa stood up upon the bed, toes wriggling through the soft rugs and animal skins.

“You’re angry and father.”  
“Yes love. I am.”  
“Why?”  
“Because he has trapped us in this castle with strangers. He has forced me to abandon your sister.”  
“Ramia’s frightened too. But she’s trying. She misses us, and him.”

“Misses your father?” Moro scoffed, strutting over to a wardrobe that stood on the far end of the room. “I highly doubt that.” It was strange sometimes Moro felt, that when Laisa spoke in such a vague manner she could speak to her in less simple manners. The young girl followed so she saw no reason to stop. She kissed her teeth at the overly extravagant gowns and shawls that filled the dressers.

“I trust Ramia to do her best, I hope she does not waste resources trying to find us. I feel it would prove only futile.” A small glass cup was within reach, grabbing the small decoration to inspect out of curiosity. She gave a heaping sigh. “What I want right now is for your father to explain himself and stop hiding away like a coward.”

“Perhaps he will.”

The all too familiar voice, pulled at her heart in a bruising squeeze, turning to face the source. The glass in her hand shattering in her grip as anger consumed her being.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen used:
> 
> Vyn felasil: Moron  
> Sule tael tasalal: Until we meet again  
> Asha’lan: daughter  
> Ahnsul mamae: but mother  
> Amelan:keeper, protector

Solas had many natural talents. One of them being fast reflexes, a handy enough skill for anyone who wandered and adventured as much as he had in his lifetime. He was certainly grateful for those sharp reflexes at this current moment.

A vase to the face would have been very, very painful if Moro’s throw had landed. 

He unfortunately had forgotten how much upper body strength the woman hand. Despite the use of only one arm she proceeded to relentlessly throw anything she could get her hand on at him. Their daughter, being the smart one, had already left the room when he entered prior to current events. The tension that built the moment Moro had realised his presence was thick in the air and the girl knew better than to linger.

While furniture replacements could be made, he decided enough was enough when Moro made for the small rocking chair by the fire. 

“Enough Moro!” His frustration had finally reached breaking point, and his next words were probably said with a lot more volume than he had originally intended

Moro stood sharply still. Shocked at the loud boom of his voice, her eyes wide and posture stiff. A short silence fell over them. Slowly her eyes narrowed into slits and her lips curled in an offended snarl. The grip she held on the chair tightened before she threw it in full force in his direction.

“DON’T FUCKING RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!” Moro howled, certain that if possible, her rage could shake the entire castle. Good, she thought. Let them all feel how angry she was. Let Solas know just how much of a mistake he had made locking her up. Solas had barely managed to dodge the chair, stumbling in surprise and cursing under his breath when she made to find more throwing material. By the look in her eye, she wanted to aim for his head.

A mocking and bitter laugh broke from Moro when she saw the tell-tale sign of magic developing in his palm, a sign of warning to the glare in his eyes.

“Hit me! I dare you. See where it gets you, you fuck.”  
“Stop it Moro. This behaviour is childish!”  
“Shut up!” The log in her hand went soring straight for his head but missed again. 

Both elves were on the tip of their toes at each corner of the room, ready to jump at a moment’s notice. Moro growled and screamed long and loud, hands clenched in the air as she saw red. “By the gods! I’m going to kill you!”

“And how do you suppose will you get out of here if you do that? Vyn felasil…” 

Solas knew better than to goad her and get smart with her. It was always so easy to slip into juvenile behaviour when they fought, always had been. Easy for Moro as well, running to his side of the room. The force she pounced on him with made him buckle, but she was unrelenting as she continued to attack him. 

With enough force he flipped their positions, holding her arms down and pinning her in place.

“Please vhenan! Calm yourself…”

For a moment she ceased her fidgeting, staring him dead in the eyes. Solas sighed with relief when her arms loosened, and her nostrils ceased their flaring and her eyes calmed. He has suspected resistance, and a fight when eventually they would meet. The hysteria with which she assaulted him he had not expected though.

Nor the sudden but slowly searing pain in his groin.

His hands immediately released her arms as a hand travelled down instinctually, where she had collided her knee. The air sucked from his lung as he groaned at the increasing pain.

“Fenhidis…”  
“Be grateful I don’t cut it off.”

Solas inhaled sharply through his nose, doing his best to ignore the pain as he awkwardly rose onto his feet. It seemed at least that she had gotten the most of her anger out of her system. Moro walked back towards the dresser she had initially be standing by, busying herself with what objects remained. She still wore the same armour she had adorned the day he left her, although they were in better condition than he had last seen them in. 

What saddened him was the state the rest of her was in. Tired eyed, hand cut and bruised and her hair tied tightly and unkempt. He knew that his last minute decision at the temple would hold consequences. And he could now see for himself what he had done.

Anger and spite were always easy emotions that dripped from her tongue. Those he was ready for. But her appearance and actions revealed what she always tried to hide. She was hurt by what he had done, betrayed. 

“My love…”

“If I hear one more endearment out of your mouth Solas…” Her anger had cooled, the even tone with which she spoke in all honesty much more unnerving that her hysterics only moments ago. “I will punch you in the throat.”

“….Moro then.”  
“Inquisitor.”  
“Inquisitor…will you allow me to explain?”  
“No.”  
“No…?”

Moro opened the dresser filled with elaborate garments and gowns.

“We will speak when I feel like it. In all honesty I can’t stomach looking at you right now.” She took hold of all the clothes, sending the bundle of garments aflame as she shoved them into the fireplace. 

“While you’re gone have these ridiculous things replaced, I will not be some pretty bauble for this dollhouse you’ve confined me in.”

Solas made a wry face at the careless disregard for the delicate silks and fabrics Moro gave as the fire blared and roared higher with their consumption. She sat upon the large bed with her back to him, the silence stretching for long periods. He opened him mouth to say something, anything to placate her grievance. But he could tell she sensed that he wanted to speak in the small rise of her shoulders, like a feline ready to hiss. He thought better of it. 

When she was in better moods to converse with him perhaps he would explain himself. With there clearly being no sign of conversation possible at the present time he gave a heavy sigh, closing the door behind him. 

Yara was climbing the staircase, with slow but urgent pacing.

“I came as soon as I could. The servants heard shouting but dared not investigate.”

Yara waited patiently to be addressed, a hand loosely clutching his staff while the other held onto the stone wall. Solas rubbed tired eyes, walking past Yara and descending the long spiral staircase. 

“Come Yara, there are things we must discuss.”

The walk through the palace was more a chance for Solas to familiarise himself with it, ideas and strategies swimming through his head as Yara informed him of all that transpired since Moro and his own arrival. They journeyed deep to an underground library, servants running haphazardly to get it into a state fit to be seen.

A brief smile came over Solas’ face at the sight of the grand library. He had never set foot within the walls of this gift of June’s. Yara smiled proudly, a hand gently steering his master towards a large whirling pool. Concoctions, scrolls and apparatuses laid beside it. 

This was truly an endowment to Sylaise, always partial to the art of alchemy as she was.

“I felt it best after fixing her living space to get the library and alchemy room within working conditions. Boredom can be a deadly thing after all.”  
“You have my thanks Yara, I am aware this task is a simple one, yet tedious.”

“If there is one thing I can enjoy in your service it’s the freedom to be frank. I do feel this task troublesome…” Yara’s brows furrowed in contemplation, relaxing as they left the library and continued their walk back up and into the gardens. “But you have entrusted me with not just her wellbeing but that of your child. I do take some pride in that I must admit, I will endeavour to prove your faith was not misplaced.”

“More flowers.” Solas asked kindly to one of the servants breathing magic into the air, the pollen carrying the resonance of her magic on their back. The elves here were putting great efforts to restore this ancient marvel, and with time he hoped Moro would be able to appreciate the efforts he was putting forth to ensure her comfort.

“Besides…” Yara grumbled, humour in his eyes. “You can’t ask Drynne to play babysitter now can you?”

That got a genuine snort out of Solas, he was careful in his choice of generals, but Drynne was much more suited to battlefields that castles. The thought of Yara’s remark was humorous, and slightly frightening in its own way. 

When they finally arrived back in the great hall, the air became serious around them. Going from casual conference to the Fen’harel and General. Both with the same matter in mind.

“Despite a lack of guidance the Inquisitor’s daughter has managed to still make herself a threat. A potential one at least.”  
“You had mentioned her scouts were closing in on your base no? Perhaps a change of location will be needed.”  
“Somewhere she cannot reach.” Solas scowled at the change of events, he had hoped Ramia would stay at Skyhold and waste resources and time finding her mother, or better, surrender and accept his previous offer. Instead she proved a menace. He couldn’t bring himself to think cruelly of her, despite it all. 

“I do not want to harm her.”

“It might have to come that Fen’harel, you can only amuse her for so long.” Yara frowned at the overwrought knot of his master’s eyes. Taking a step he stood before Solas to garner his full attention. 

“It might come to a point where we will have to strip her of what influence she has…permanently, and effectively.” 

Solas hummed in thought quietly to himself, clasping his hands behind his back and making his way out the temple. “I have matters to attend to. We will speak later.”

“Sule tael tasalal.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Thank you for getting back to me Varric, but you didn’t have come all the way here.”

Ramia sat with the dwarven Viscount of Kirkwall, drinks in hand. Wine for Varric and milk for herself. Varric insisted on sitting just by the grand hall entrance, as he did all those years ago, when he was part of the Inquisition. Varric had always been the nostalgic type. He smiled at her words, taking a generous gulp of the red liquid and enjoying the heat of the fire.

“The moment I saw your name at the bottom of that letter instead of your mother’s…? No, I knew something had to be wrong. Whatever happened to Moro can’t be said by letter.”  
Ramia spent the next hour going over what had occurred in Arlathan Forest. The temple, what they found there and what Solas had done. Varric was usually one to be expressive during a story. But he only sat there, constantly refilling his cup the moment it would empty. His face becoming grimmer and grimmer the more he learnt, releasing a frustrated sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Chuckles…this shit just keeps getting worse and worse.”  
“Yeah…”  
“I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you.”

Ramia gave a shrug of her shoulders, giving a ‘what can I do?’ look his way. Varric gave a reassuring smile, his eyes wandering down to the pendant across her neck. When he tried reaching a hand for it Ramia clutched it close, eyes cast down.

“Didn’t that…?”  
“Yes. He gave it to me, years ago…before he left.”  
“Ramia…”  
“What?” Ramia asked, a bit too defensively. “It’s mine now. Has been for ages and….” The old dwarf knew that look too well in her eyes.  
“He’s a little beyond redemption don’t you think?”

Ramia remained silent, stewing on his words. Of course she thought that, no one was angrier at Solas than she was. Her mother was such an incredibly private woman, no one had known about her pregnancy until Laisa was born. No one saw how much of an effect on their lives Solas was.

Her mother loved him so much. She took a chance on him, let him help her believe she deserved to be loved, and that it was okay to love another in return. Even though she was only a child, she could still remember the way Solas’ face warmed at the mention of her mother. She had no doubt that Solas still had love in his heart for her. Maybe he loved her a bit too much.

Besides, she reasoned to herself, Solas could have easily killed her or taken her by force that day at June’s temple. But he didn’t, he gave her a choice. Ramia wanted to stubbornly believe there was hope, the wolf-jaw necklace was that reminder. 

Or maybe she just wanted her hahren back.

Varric realised this was a touchy topic and decided against furthering it. Instead they both retreated back to Ramia’s room where her plans remained. The maps and letters never leaving that chamber. Renee was inside again, just finished with cleaning her room and setting trays of food for both Ramia and Varric. With a polite thank and goodbye she left, both of them nibbled at their food, much more preoccupied with the task before them than filling their bellies.

“You’re the only person I personally know with any influence in the Free Marches.” Ramia confessed, flipping up a map that concentrated on central Thedas. “And considering where I need to do, I feel you might be the best help in regards to this.”

“Andraste’s tits Ramia…Estwatch? Really?!”

“Don’t look at me.” Another map was pulled out, the one with her mother’s notes and marks. “Whatever’s there is important. I’m not asking you to go with me. But if you know anyone who could be of help…”

“Yeah yeah…” Varric hopped out of his seat, giving Ramia a nudge to relinquish her own. Setting himself comfortably, he started pulling ink and paper. “You certainly came to the right dwarf, I don’t have a clue what could be important there. The Felicisima Armada are kings of that particular castle.” He gave one disappointed look in her direction. “Not exactly the kind of place you just go for a friendly visit.” 

“I’m trying to be as prepared as possible ok? I just…” Ramia started pacing back and forth, halting Varric’s concentration. “I don’t know where my mother is…or my sister. Solas already has so much of an advantage and I need to beat him to it.”

The moment Ramia had settled back in Skyhold she had men and women scouring across the land for any sign of her mother’s whereabouts. But the crossroads where dangerous, and continued to be treacherous the longer time passed and Solas’ forces grew. 

The knowledge of just how much of advantage Solas had made her heart sink. God-like powers, at least one foci that they know of in his possession, the eluvians…Just thinking about the endless list gave her a headache. The human lords of Orlais, Fereldan, every one of them played at normalcy. She supposed denial of impending doom was to be expected, but they relied too heavily on what was left of the inquisition after disbanding to deal with the threat. 

How long before Solas decided a full on invasion was due? Would they even be prepared?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was interesting how quick the elves got the palace into a state fit to be seen and liveable. By their standards. A waterfall, from god knows where, guided water through and into the lavish garden that was the centrepiece of this part of the castle. It could be heard from a distance, while the soothing rhythms of the river was much fresher in her mind, a ways ahead of Moro.

Despite the state of the crossroads always seemingly at sunset, they had somehow made an illusion of a late morning within the garden. Bright enough that looking in the wrong direction required her to squint her eyes from the bright sun emblazoned the blue sky.

The garden itself was a celebration of colours. Flowers both common, rare and unknown to her everywhere her eyes turned. There scents strong and sweet in the air. Or perhaps that honeyed smell came from the confectionaries her daughter was guzzling upon the table before them. She took solace in the fact that Laisa seemed unperturbed by current events, but then she’d always loose sense of her surroundings when food was involved.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Her daughter enquired, pushing a honeyed glazed pastry in her direction. It was true, since they had arrived Moro barely ate, her appetite all but gone. It seemed, judging by the widening of Laisa’ eyes and the drop of her brow meant she had noticed and was starting to be concerned. 

Moro smiled, eyes warm and a thumb brushing some crumbs from the child’s mouth and responding with low hummed chuckle. Taking a small bite of the pastry to satisfy the girl when she pushed it to her lips. Laisa beamed a smile, abandoning her small cake for the identical pastry and mimicking her mother’s posture. Checking every now and then that she was copying her mother properly. Moro tutted at the numerous deserts abandoned on the table with single tiny child sized bites.

“Asha’lan, what is this?” She chided, with no real weight to it.

“Ahnsul mamae, I bite one and want the other…then the other…and that one…and that one…” Moro started piling up the bitten snacks onto a single plate, unable to hide her mirth at the cheeky smile across Laisa face. Her daughter’s sudden bolting from her seat to run across and jump into her lap startled her, all humour devoid from her face at the source of Laisa’s disquiet.

“Inquisitor.”

Yara stood before them, staff in hand as it always was. His robes less extravagant than what he previously wore. Moro stared at the man, caring not for dignifying him with a response. Although she wish she had, since he decided to seat himself down and make himself comfortable.

“I see the replacements are more to your satisfaction yes?” Moro assumed he referred to the nightgown she wore. She grunted a response, which seemed to displease him but did not seem to discourage him into the silence she longed for.

“Do you enjoy being so difficult Inquisitor?”  
“Do you enjoy hearing your own voice Amelan?”

“Ah, you could tell!”  
“You’re marks belong to Elgar’nan. Although whatever clan you were keeper to must be long dead, or did you all decide to play war for Fen’harel?”

Yara used some form of magic to keep his staff upright, leaning back into his chair and crossing a leg. 

“You’d be right on the first count.”  
“Ah I see, with all your clan dead I suppose you have nothing to lose in joining this fight do you? What’s a few million lives for ‘lost glorious Elvhenan’? As if it’s different to any other empire that’s come and gone.” 

Yara pulled out a long pipe, igniting and take low slow pulls of the strong and fragrant tobacco. 

“You are a troublesome and near-sighted woman.”  
“And you are a fool. A fool I do not wish to discuss morality or my short comings with.”

That earned her a mocking laugh from the old mage, his eyes shifting from Moro to Laisa before expelling smoke through his nostrils.

“Let us hope Fen’harel’s offspring does not take after you.”  
“You speak of her like he has something in particular in mind for MY daughter…” Moro held Laisa tighter against her, stroking her brow to quell her unease.

“Do not worry yourself, he has not spoken of anything of the sort. It is simply the inevitable path for the child.” He spoke the statement with a confidence that make her teeth grind. “The sooner you end this ridiculous antagonism with her father the better.”

Before Moro could answer Yara rose swiftly to his feet, hand jumping to his staff. Moro shifted forward to see what prompted his sudden jump to his feet and was surprised to see a familiar face.

“Abelas?” Yara spoke with such surprise, the sentinel’s appearance clearly unexpected. Abelas did not address the mage, his eyes panning across the garden to land upon Moro.

“Leave us.”

Yara gave a bow of his head, bidding goodbye to Moro and returning inside the palace walls. Abelas walked with slow steps, his face almost seeming in disbelief. Granted the last he saw her she had been a distraught mess at June’s temple. And she sat now in humble but well sown gowns with tea and cakes, her child content in her lap as her mood lightened up with Yara’s departure.

“Lavellan.”

Moro’s shock turned quick to ire, a hard a shaky exhale blowing hot through her nose. Mentally counting to calm herself, she pulled Laisa close, enough that she could speak softly in her ear.

“Laisa, do you remember the flower crowns your sister taught you to make?” Laisa nodded at her mother’s words grabbing for another pastry. “Go in the garden and find as many blue flowers as you can. Ok?” The little girl giggled softly as she hopped off her mother’s lap and skipped off deeper into the gardens, leaving Moro and Abelas alone to speak.

“So this is where the Dread Wolf has kept you.”

“In terms of prisons I suppose I could do worse.”  
“You could.”

Abelas made no move to sit, his eyes studying their surroundings. As if he was imprinting in his mind the very fabric of the carefully woven magic that built this place.

“I’m surprised he has not made you play guard dog, instead of that prick Yara.”  
“The men and woman he holds at his disposal are far and wide, but not as much as he would like. I am his eyes and ears in places he cannot reach.”  
“Hm.”

“On the surface there isn’t much that has happened, what is left of your forces had done little but be a distraction these past months.”

“You speak as if I have been here for an extortionate amount of time.” Abelas stares directly at her, perplexed at Moro’s words. “It’s been a month, maybe two at best…” An uncomfortable silence built between them.

“Hasn’t it…? Abelas how long has been?”  
“Almost a year…Inquisitor…”

If she could sink further into her seat and let the ground swallow her whole she probably would have. The weight of how much time had truly past in the physical world set all her nerves aflame. Was time truly so distorted here? Had Solas done this deliberately? A year. A whole year. Ramia had been fighting back against Solas alone for almost a year and she had done nothing. Her blood was on fire, her hand clenching tight against the wooden armrests of her chair.

Abelas didn’t flinch as glass shattered to the ground and the table dashed across the stone floor from the force of Moro’s throw.

“I have to get out of here, I have to do something. Anything to help her…” Sudden realisation dawned on Moro, her gaze shifting swiftly onto the sentinel. If he had not known where she was and had no business here, it made no sense that he would show up now. “Why are you here Abelas…?”

He looked off into the distance, hands clasping behind him as he regarded the child laughing and playing amongst the flowers.

“Your daughter Ramia is looking for means to give herself an edge in the upcoming war. She has found old plans…your plans.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  
“I am simply conversing, not confessing.” 

Moro was confused by the sentinels behaviour, the weight of all this knowledge felt hard to carry in the moment. Her words with Yara, the news Abelas delivered…she fell into the wood chair, her face buried in her hand as she rubbed at her eyes.

She needed to find a way to reach Ramia, that she was sure of more than anything in this moment. Abelas’ brows knotted together. Sensing her distress and feeling remorse, opting for a change in subject.

“The flowers are a tad…excessive.”

“I know. It’s beautiful…I hate this fucking garden.”

“Why..?”

“Because I love it. I had always wanted a garden like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So EmmG, when you made your comment " Just kick 'em all in the balls Moro"  
> Let it be known that the scene when said balls were kicked was written well before you posted your comment. So you can imagine how big I was smiling :D LOL xx
> 
> For anyone who never read Smokey Taboo, I hope you can tell who dominated the relationship during Inquisition lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the handful of people who read this lol  
> Sorry for the late chapter
> 
> Had exams and assignments :P

With assurance that his contact would be there when they needed him, Varric made his goodbyes and made travel for the Free Marches to resume his role as viscount. He could only stay away for so long.

Ramia wasn’t too happy about it, but they all had their roles to play. And time was of the essence. It became clear as her scouts continued to inform her of their enemy’s movements that whatever was at Estwatch, it wasn’t a foci. The urgency with which they displayed trying to reach June’s temple not as strong in the east of the Marches.  
Regardless, Varric had promised his contact helpful to them once they reached the port. A ship waiting for them to guide them to the Raider’s grand fortress.

Once she made her goodbyes, she retreated back inside Skyhold. A good rummage through the underground library was her next objective, where books and tomes not for prying eyes were kept.

When last Ramia came here it was still encased with dust and cobwebs from neglect. Over time her mother had it restored, the information lying in wait a great source against Solas and his growing army.

“M’lady.”

Ramia nodded at the guard stationed by the library entrance.

“I want no disruptions while I’m inside. Unless it’s an emergency.”  
“Understood.”

When she closed the door behind her she leaned against it, exhaling loudly and staring at the assortment of books awaiting her. Her previous endeavours resting against the desk as she had last left them, relief on her face as she continued to search them for answers to her many questions.

Even as hours passed she was diligent the only thing giving her pause was the creak of the door opening.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” The door clinking shut behind her caused her to huff in approval. Assuming the visitor had left.

“Da’lath’in.”

Ramia’s hands dropped the pages in her fingertips, instead resting against the edge of the table. The all too familiar voice giving her pause. She wanted to turn but was too afraid, unsure if it was just her imagination to who she assumed the voice belonged to. Ramia did not want to be disappointed.

The sound of footsteps along the stone floor made her heartbeat pick up, her hands gripping tighter against the wooden table. With a long shaky breath, she slowly turned in her chair.

“Abelas…?”

He looked no different than when they first met, all hooded robes and golden armour. Although as she called his name he removed said hood, leaving no doubt that it was really him before her. He kept a distance, face unreadable as he neither smiled nor frowned at her. Although the same could be said for her own expression.

After all, the last time they had spoken had not ended pleasantly. Her own demand that she never wished to see him unless he had found her mother. That piece of memory caused her to jump out of her seat, her eyes wide and questioning at the sentinel.

“If you’re here…does that mean…?”

Abelas gave a small nod of confirmation.  
“Yes.”

Ramia gave a breathy laugh, eyes watering with tears as she smiled up at him, her hand held tightly against her chest. Abelas returned with a small smile of his own, a hand that was against his side beckoning her over. Hesitant at first, but the further she came towards him, the bolder her steps became.

“I’ll be honest Abelas, I hadn’t expected to see you again, ever,” she hadn’t expected him to actually search for her mother, to fufil a request he had no reason to perform.

So many feelings swam through her. Relief mostly, but caution as well. It had been almost a year since she had last seen Abelas. Almost a year since they acted on foolish impulses, innocent as they were.

But if he had gone out of his way to find her mother and tell her, where did his loyalties lie? Questions for another time, if fate was kind to them both.

“Not an easy task. Hence why I come to you so late.”  
“But why?”

Abelas mirrored her confusion. Ramia gave small tut and tried to compose her thoughts, reluctant for what answer she might receive from her questions.

“You work for Solas Abelas…would he really want this information to reach me?”

A smirk reached the sentinel’s face.

“I simply have told you that your mother is alive and well…well, as much as she can be, considering the circumstances...she worries greatly for you,” Abelas gave a grunt when a jab was made to his gut, impatience and frustration plain as day on the girl’s face.

“Stop pissing about. Whose side are you on Abelas? I want a straight forward answer.”  
“I….”

Abelas made to reach out for her, taking in the small little details that had changed since he had seen her. Her hair bit longer, but just as wild, her eyes harder but a twinkle of innocence still holding on strong. He pulled back though, thinking better of it. Pondering on her question, one he honestly had no answer to.

“I am still figuring that out,” Abelas walked past her, sizing up the small alcove of a library Ramia had sequestered herself in. “The Dread Wolf still wishes to stop you without bringing harm. It won’t be long before that comes to an end, your mother and I talked in length about this particular topic,” Abelas turned fulling to appraise her his eyes slowly panning across to the staff close by before trailing back to her. “She wishes to give you an edge against him.”

“How?”

“The Inquisitor has an idea, far-fetched but not impossible fortunately. There will be considerations to make. I will not speak more on it unless the possibility is absolute, and will bring you no harm,” Abelas suddenly walked in long strides to leave the room. Stopping when he reached Ramia, and sunk a hand into her hair. His fingers cradling the back of her head as he placed tentative kiss to her forehead. “I will not leave my station, but neither will I allow him to cast you from this world. I will not let him destroy it, not while those like you are still living in it.”

The words were whispered against her and sent a warm shiver down her spine that left a blush along her cheeks. She believed him.

They parted, despite Ramia not truly wanting to say goodbye. Abelas’ task however, was done. Whatever her mother had planned, Ramia would have to trust her to get it done. She still had plans of her own to accomplish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been some time since Moro’s last encounter with Abelas. Even longer since she had seen Solas. It surprised her. They had argued or bickered on occasion in the past, and any escalated fights like the one they had had over a month ago would have been swiftly resolved. Solas had always hated their arguments.

His absence however did provide her with ample time to carry out her own agendas. Yara never bothered her much, save to offer her news on the Dread Wolf’s health and wellbeing. He knew it irritated her, but it was the smallest of grievances he could throw her way without getting himself into trouble.

The mage believed her alone and powerless, all the better for her. Let them think her weak as she plots right under their noses.

Most of her time was spent in the library they had restored below in the deep. More books than her eyes could take in. ‘All at your disposable Inquisitor’ she had been told. A trinket to humour her ‘addled’ brain.

Yes, addled seemed the appropriate word to describe her current state of mind. Headaches and restless nights had become something she simply put up with over the years. Her current residence and its stress on her had only elevated with her time in this castle. She could no longer remain ignorant to the source.

The Power of The Well was starting to take its toll on her.

She had been so determined at the time at Mythal’s temple not to allow what seemed like the last dregs of pure untainted elvhen magic to be lost. But now the price was being paid, the voices feeling like pinpricks at the edges of her mind at day, and roaring like thunder in her sleep. Abelas could sense her well-hidden distress that day in the gardens, his own words echoing her own assumptions about the long-term effects of the well. That was when the idea had come to her.

To pass on the well to another. Ramia specifically.

Abelas had seemed doubtful, Moro didn’t seemed convinced herself. But her daughter was a mage, and Abelas seemed confident that hypothetically, if it was possible, Ramia would be able to carry the well and its gift better than she ever had. The edge it gave her during the Qunari plot all those years ago would no doubt prove useful in Ramia’s quest to stop Solas. That was why Moro was here now, scouring the library for any hidden knowledge that may help.

When whispers that Solas had returned reached her ears, she shut her books shut, placed them back in place and picked out something more mundane.  
Herbalism? Yes, she supposed she would possibly read a book about that.

“Fen’harel wishes to see you. He is waiting for you in your chambers.”

Moro didn’t miss the icy drip to the servants tone. The temptation to return it high. Instead, and much to the servants surprise, she gave them a polite smile and thanked them for informing her of his arrival. If her plan was to work, she would have to be on her best behaviour from now on.

When she arrived at her bedroom door she took a moment for herself to prepare. While she already had a good idea why he locked her away, she hadn’t heard it from Solas himself. This conversation would have to be civil if it was to get anywhere. Composure had to take precedence to her anger.

She opened the door to find he was by the vanity, a simple oaken one. Her display with the overly lavish robes and the fireplace made him decide he had to tone down the entire room. Solas hadn’t noticed her enter, so she took the opportunity to observe him.

He was once again in that armour reminiscent to the sentinels, albeit with his wolf pelt draped across one shoulder. He was placing large jars upon the vanity, his mouth curved in self-satisfaction. From what she could see one of the jars opened contained oil of deep amber colour, while the other she could have sworn to be powder. When Solas scrunched his nose at the smell, she had no doubt at what it was.

She wanted to hate him for acquiring the powder and oil, one of her most treasured possessions wherever she went. But of course he would remember it, how often he had reclined against their shared bed many times at Skyhold. Watching her as she mixed those jars and applied the strong earthy- scented clay to her hair.

Looking down at her hand, she frowned at the missing orange hue that always used to stain the palm of her hand. She hadn’t indulge in haircare for some time. Aside from Ramia and Laisa, there wasn’t much room for joy for so many years.

Solas was trying to make this place a home. The jars, fur pelts draped across the bed. And the flowers. All of it meant to comfort where comfort could not, and would not be had.

“Oh, Vhen-,” Solas stopped himself, closing the jar in his hand and turning to fully face Moro. “Inquisitor…I am sorry I could not come sooner,” He took cautious steps in her direction. His meek demeanour so strange for how he presented himself in his intimidating attire.

A suffocating silence stretched between them. Moro walked with long strides to the bed when she had enough of it, patting the space beside her for him to sit. The heat of her hawk-like gaze, following him as he sat next to her. It was comforting to know regardless of the hard leader he presented himself as to his subordinates, he was still Solas with her. It would perhaps make her task a bit more simple.

“Would you care to explain why you have locked me away like an animal?”

“Moro…”

“And left me with people who despise me? Who have no qualms in expressing their distaste for me? Who would be rid of me given the chance?”

“Has anyone attempted to harm you?!”

Moro’s brows raised at the abrupt concern, his hands clutching her tightly to look him straight in the eyes. His behaviour baffled her.

“No,” she confessed, he breathed a sigh of relief but would not relinquish his hold on her. “Solas. Why did you bring me here?”  
“You were becoming too much trouble. I had hoped, last we met those years ago you would stay with Ramia and find some comfort.”

He held her remaining hand to his lips, his eyes drawn to ahead of him as he used it more as security than to bring her any comfort.

“Did you honestly think I would allow you to end this world? If I was alone…perhaps…but not with two girls Solas. They don’t deserve that.”  
“No. They don’t. You should not have kept Laisa…”

That stung, cut deep for her to hear.

“That is unfair Solas. You were gone when I learnt I was with child, she was only a year on when I learnt who you really were!”  
“You have always known who I really am vhenan…but my words were careless and hurtful, I am sorry. I love you both but…”

His eyes hardened, trained on Moro as he held her hand tighter.

“But you are now meddling in matters beyond your understanding.”  
“The foci?”  
“Yes! Your quest to stop me is becoming madness, you are delving in matters you know not how to control. And now Ramia is doing the same.”

Moro ripped her hand away, her fast twisting and teeth bared.

“Don’t touch her Solas, If you harm her….”  
“If she surrenders, nothing will need to be done.”

The last of her patience was wearing thin, rising in full force off the bed and making for the balcony on the other side of the bedroom. The threat was there and she panicked. Solas called out to her but was ignored, his eyes widening as she leaned too far for his liking over the railing. Screaming out to her when she sat atop the railing.

“I know there’s a way out of here Solas! I will find it! YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE!”

Without thinking his eyes shone, and Moro moved away from the balcony railing. Not by any compulsion of her own. Her mind was screaming at her body but it disobeyed her commands. Stay calm she repeated like a mantra, trying to understand what was happening.

But she couldn’t, she knew what he had done. He carried a piece of Mythal inside him, but the idea that he could control her through the well’s power hadn’t occurred to her.

Mostly because she did not think he would dare to use it in the first place.

She was hurt, and he could see it on her face, when she made no dramatic show of anger. Only staring at him with broken questioning eyes. Solas looked full of shame, unsure how to approach what he had done.

“I am sorry vhenan. I thought…I thought you would-“  
“What? Jump? Like last time?”

He was beside her in seconds, abandoning the wall that had been built between them and peppering her with kisses. Constant mumbles of apologies and promises never to use his power to control her again.

She made no show to stop his affections, her mind far off elsewhere. If she was to pass the well to Ramia she would need a way to cut off his connection to it. There was much to do. Including being compliant to some small degree of Solas’ attentions.

“Don’t…do it again.”  
“I won’t my love, I promise.”  
“Don’t ever control me like that again.”  
“Never again,” He pulled her close, ignoring her half-hearted attempt to reciprocate. More mumblings of promises and oaths. “I am sorry.”

Another stretch of silence between them. The realisation of her situation dawning harshly on Moro.

“You won’t let me go, will you?”  
“No…I cannot. It is safer for you here. I want you to be safe.”

“And Ramia? Where does she fit in your grand scheme?”

“I want her safe as well Moro. You know better than anyone how much she means to me.”  
“Why? She is not your daughter.”

“I wish she was….you know I always did,” It was easy to see the torn look on his face and believe it genuine. “Before Laisa, I believed she would be the closest thing to a child I could have. It breaks my heart to hear my generals speak of her as my enemy.” He probably was, but it didn’t make the situation feel any better.

“And what about Laisa? You believe she will be so understanding when she loses her sister and mother? By your hand?”  
“She will hate me. Despise me,” Solas clutched her tighter. “I have come to accept this. My path cannot be changed.”

She gave up, Solas seemed resigned to his fate and had decided her own. Moro cleared her throat, a signal for Solas to separate himself.

“There has been a section of the library being kept from me.”

Solas’s eyes trailed off, trying to remember what she spoke of. She suspected him to deny her again, make some excuse to keep it from her. He only gave a tired nod and left the room.

“I will have it opened to you, the guards and servants should not prove an issue,” Before he left he stood in the archway, twisting his head to look back “What could be of interest there? You are no mage vhenan.”

“I don’t care,” Moro claimed, her arms folded in front of her and bringing small amusement to Solas’ eyes. “I want access, regardless.”

Solas chuckled, words he wanted to say dying on his tongue before leaving the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I keep writing this shitty fic...

After their last incident, Solas tried to make up very hard for what happened on the balcony days ago. Spending as much time with her as possible, whether it was in the gardens or sharing meals together. A small part of Moro wanted to enjoy these moments, especially when it made Laisa so happy.

Seeing Laisa joke and prod Solas with inane questions with no clear conclusion was amusing. Her low attention span when presented with numerous arrays of food ruffled Solas to no end. The man had never seen so much wasted food in his life. Moro truly did want to take some solace in these moments.

But it was an illusion, Solas knew that. He knew how much she hated it here, she could see it in the way his smiles faltered with every attempt to please her. Her smiles meant nothing when she couldn’t be convincing, not when she flinched at his touch. A small subtle knee-jerk reaction, but he would see it, he always did. And it always brought him grief.

A small part of her could not help but feel guilty. But then she remembered why she was here and who was counting on her out there and her resolve grew stronger.

“Yara tells me you enjoy the gardens.” Solas remarked, as they sat alone together.

“Yara says a lot of things.”

They resided in a small alcove with a stream nearby. Romantic and quiet. A good opportunity to wear Solas down. A particular aspect of her life here in the palace had put her off for long enough, and while she was loathe to admit it, some measure of charm needed to be implemented if she was to get her way.

He was out of his armour on this particular occasion, the black pants and white baggy sleeved shirt a pleasant change. Although it would have been odd to seem him armoured up for a garden respite. She could feel his lingering gaze on her, sad and wanting. She found it odd that he could still find her attractive after all these years.

Having two children, losing an arm and finding out the man you love was planning to destroy the world did tend to make one age faster.

Despite his immortality, the weight on his shoulders had done Solas little favour as well. His eyes gave away his trouble to sleep. The stories always told that despite their eternal lifespans, even the elvhen would grow weary of life. Sometimes Moro wondered just hold old Solas was.

She wanted to delve deeper into the libraries, and despite him giving her leave to wander he did so while still keeping an eye on her. And she wanted to put a stop to it.  
Solas however, still had little trust for her. Since her declaration to find an escape from this prison. His servants were always just in view in the corner of her eye. Solas either hired terrible spies, or he forgot she was a hunter once upon a time. Nothing escaped her notice, it had always been that way.

Without warning Moro threw her legs across his lap, head resting against his chest. She felt his chest tighten, surprised at the sudden weight pushed against him.

“Moro?”  
“Hush.”

Despite his confusion, she felt an arm rest against her. Hand testing at first by her waist before placing itself fully when no objection was made. It felt good, the small rise and fall of his chest, his thumb stroking against her waist. She could fall asleep like that, the temptation to do so high.

“Your servants are spying on me.”  
“Hmm?”  
“I said your servants are spying on me Solas.”

“Ah,” Solas placed his chin against her head, enjoying this rare moment where he could hold her. “Yes.”

Moro lifted her head, taking small satisfaction in his disappointed gaze as she left his lap. His surprise returning when she changed position, straddling his lap and fiddling with the collar of his vest. Her eyes taking in the small detailed embroidery of it.

“I don’t like being watched.”  
“I don’t like the idea of you in danger, and danger is exactly what waits for you if you leave.”

Moro rested her head against the crook of his neck. Gladdened that from this angle, Solas could not see the grin that formed when she caught that subtle little sigh that left his lifts. His body was always so sensitive.

“Every time you arrive from the outside world it’s through the main entrance,” Solas hummed, urging her to elaborate further. “The only way out is through there, that’s why it’s heavily guarded,” His hands slid from across her thighs to rest snugly around her hips.

“How observant of you.”  
“Yes, very observant,” she reached forward, massaging the point where jaw and neck met with her thumb. Gently, and soothing. “So unless I’m in the great hall you have no reason to have people watch me. The only way to the library is through the vestibule no?”

“A fair point.”

Moro pressed her lips where her thumb had been, nipping along his lobe to the point of his ear. His hands gripping her tighter and pulling her flush against him. Enjoying the low grumble in his throat.

“Attempting to seduce me to get what you want?”  
“That entirely depends on whether it’s working or not…Vhenan…”

Suddenly the roles were reversed and Solas had her by the throat. Not too tight and not too loose, just the right amount to get her excited. An old habit that had clearly not gone away, if the heat pooling inside her was any indication.

“I don’t believe I have heard you call me that in some time fenor.”

“I’d say it more often if it meant getting some privacy,” Solas chuckled, the deep vibration of it travelling up his throat and trailing a shiver down Moro’s spine. Things were going down dangerous territories. The hand at her neck, the hardness pressing against her, her own hands rubbing against his chest. “Please my love…” She whined, appreciative of the sceptic frown on his face. She was unsure what she was started to plead for.

“Your ‘love’ am I now?”  
“You always have been….” For a moment the act became too real, her face falling and any arousal slowly shifting away. “Would I have been so angry with you, still angry with you if you weren’t?” She could see the conflict going on in his eyes. For an extra push, she places a gentle kiss to his lips. So tempted to take it further, but keeping it chaste.

She hadn’t expected much of a reaction from him but he held her closer. Lips pressing harder against her own, for a moment their discussion had been forgotten. Their motives shoved to the back of their minds as his tongue traced across her lower lip. And like a fool she let him in.

They were both starved for each other, the results of their abstinence plane as the heavy breaths on their lips.

His hand had forgone her neck, both arms pulling her in a crushing embrace. She moaned against his mouth, feeling utterly surrounded by him, engulfed by him. How much had he been holding back she wondered, how far would he go if they couldn’t be caught at any minute?

When Solas released her he stared at her with heavy sorrow and a question, Moro’s own eyes still shut, slowly peering open to gaze back at him. Both of their faces flushed and their lips bruised by their pent up need for each other.

“Can I…can I come to you tonight?”

His question hung in the air. It would be such an easy thing to say yes, let him find her come evening and give in to that base need and pick up the old familiar dance. Moro shrugged her head side to side as tears prickled at the corners. She could not risk it, to share her bed with him had always been an exposing affair. Vulnerability was something she could not afford.

Solas brought her hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle and bringing it to rest against his cheek. Holding in tears of his own. “Forgive me, it was too soon to ask…”

“I don’t trust you anymore Solas,” Moro confessed, wiping away her tears before they could fall. It was a confession that had been coming a long time. Where once she could confide in him her deepest fears and regrets, she could not even utter a single morsel of fact. He had hurt her too many times and while Moro knew she would never find another; she wasn’t entirely sure they could come back from this.

The bleakness of their situation finally hit them both. “There’s only one way you could earn it back.”

“And I won’t do it,” Solas wouldn’t let her go she knew this. “But…”

Moro paused, head cocking to the side. Curious of what he would say next.

“You deserve some measure of solitude.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the extra privacy she found within the palace library she still found nothing that could aid safe transference of the well’s power. The library suddenly felt too claustrophobic, the array of knowledge surrounding her yet useless in her quest making her temper tick. As she closed the door to enter the vestibule the sound of giggling caught her attention. Laisa stood at the palace entrance, laughing by Abelas’ feet as the sentinel pinched at her nose. Most likely the source of the child’s humour.

“Abelas.” Moro greeted.

“Inquisitor.”

“I hope you’ve found something because I have searched every section of that library and found nothing.”

Abelas raised a hand to silence her, ushering her towards one of the plush seats.

“I have, there is a spell,” Moro saw the deep set lines of his frown as he stared ahead. “There will be complications however.”

“Like what?”

“It will be a lot for Ramia to handle, the process of extracting and giving her the power is easy enough. But severing Solas’ control will be the difficult part and can only be done once she takes hold of the well’s power. It will put her into shock.”

Abelas interrupted her again before she could protest, the woman biting back her words and allowing him to continue. The frustration growing on her face.

“She will be indisposed for a time and I will need to watch over her.”

Instead of relief, Moro only felt suspicion. Suddenly a lot of things regarding Abelas became more suspicious to her. Staying in Ramia’s care could take days, weeks. Helping would no doubt be a declaration of betrayal amongst Solas and his flock.

“Why are you helping me Abelas?”

The sentinel continued to stare ahead.

“I have spent enough time among your people to see their value….”

Moro laughed, hushed as it was but it gave Abelas pause. Eyes cast to the side to look at her as she crossed her legs and folded her arms and peered more harshly in his direction.

“I will ask you again Abelas. Why are you helping?”

Abelas sat in silence and Moro knew that look to well. The downcast look, the fidgeting fingers. The only people to gain in this situation was herself and Ramia. And Abelas did not like her, which meant…

Moro kissed her teeth and swore under her breath.

“You have got to be kidding me…”

Abelas’ demeanour became more awkward, refusing to look Moro in the eye when she tried to grab his attention.

“Does she know?”  
“The feeling is…mutual. I have grown fond of her, that much I can say with enough certainty and honesty Inquisitor.”  
“Teldirthalelan.”  
“You disapprove.”

“I don’t know what to think right now to be completely honest with you,” Moro pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly disappointed that her poor choice in men appears to be genetic. When she looked at Abelas she had to remind herself he wasn’t Solas, and he was willing to risk open desertion to ensure Ramia’s safety regardless how shallow or deep their feelings went. She supposed she could chew their ears off later. “We will discuss that another time, go. You are to have a meeting with Solas no? It is best you are not seen with me.”

Abelas bit back whatever words lay at the tip of his tongue, nodding in understanding and heading towards one of the many hallway exists in the vestibule. Moro remained seated, watching from Afar as Abelas conversed with Yara. Moro couldn’t hear them from this distance, but saw how Abelas stiffened and Yara opened his arms in greeting when Solas joined them.

The sound of chimes rung violently through the air, everyone in the room darting towards the palace entrance as Drynne came charging through. The metal of her boots clanking loudly against the marbled floor.

“You are late.”  
“Shut up Yara. Some us actually have work that doesn’t involve babysitting.”  
“Enough. Both of you,” Abelas interjected. “Shall we proceed?”

Solas walked ahead of them, when all had followed after him Moro took to the shadows. Using her foot to hold the door open just a tad to hear the proceedings. Keeping her back to the wall and an ear peeled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you wish to travel alone?”  
“Varric’s contact is waiting there for me, it’ll be better and less likely to piss off the Armada if I go alone.”

It was clear Cullen had reservations about the arrangement, but Ramia was leaving no room for argument.

“Do you even know who this contact is?”  
“Varric felt it best not to give their name away in the letters, he’s suspicious of some of his staff.”  
“Maker’s breath! He already has spies in Kirkwall?!”  
“I’m sure he has spies everywhere, that’s why we can’t delay this trip any longer.”

The sudden sound of clashing struck the air, both Ramia and Cullen running to the source. In the grand hall stood Abelas, as well as an armoured guard at his feet groaning in pain. Abelas seemed unfazed, more annoyed than anything else until his eyes landed on Ramia. Urgency trailing his posture and footsteps.

“Abelas? What are you doing here?”  
“You have to leave Ramia. Now.”

“What are you talking about?” Cullen interjected, coming between Ramia and Abelas, the sentinel’s eyes burning holes into the arm Cullen placed against him to push him aside. “Ramia, this is clearly one of Solas’ men!”

Abelas brushed the Commander aside, pulling Ramia by her biceps.

“He is sending one of his own to take Skyhold back.”  
“But if he does that…”

“Then without the well or what you seek in Estwatch you are powerless. And he is preparing men to seek out the port there as well.”  
“Damn it…” Cullen cursed. “He expects us to stay and protect Skyhold while he ventures north.”

Abelas nods, confirming Cullen’s suspicions.

“Skyhold is secondary to him, but he knows it is one of your main strength’s right now. Whether he takes Skyhold or Estwatch, you will be the lesser.”

Ramia bit at her lip, the clogs in her head turning as she tried to figure out what needed to be done. Her eyes scanning across the hall, servants and soldiers both nervous and worried about the turn of events. Now was not the time for doubt, she had to act. With newfound bravery she looked towards the Commander.

“Cullen…. evacuate Skyhold.”  
“What?!”

Ramia turned fully to face him, her eyes hard and head held high as she addressed him.

“Evacuate Skyhold,” She repeated. Her eyes falling on Abelas, grateful for his presence and his silent acknowledgement of her authority. His gaze a question of what his own orders were to be. “Abelas, bring my mother to Skyhold. Whatever she has been planning happens now.”

Ramia turns away from both men, her anger below the surface and barely held as she retreated back to her quarters.

“I will not be outsmarted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teldirthalelan: One who will not learn


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro is sneaky
> 
> And Laisa's shows that a combination between Moro and Solas is a terrible at times.

Almost every moment of Solas’ time was spent with his generals and Moro was getting sick of it. With each passing second his plans were falling into place and a horde of elves would soon be at Skyhold’s doorstep. Ramia had no proper means to defend herself, so the time for action was now.

Abelas had the spell, now Moro just had to find some way to reach Skyhold. From what the sentinel told her, Solas was reluctant to use violence to take control of fortress. Which meant an advantage could be exposed, if she played her cards right.

Moro straightened her robes, a bit fancier in design than she liked. The one garment Solas insisted she do not throw to the fire when she removed so many others. Having had it brought especially for her. She hoped having him see her in it would spark some sentimentality out of him.

She could hear Drynne’s loud and harsh voice from behind the large wooden door, followed by Yara’s exasperated tone. Moro held an ear to the door, deciding enough time was wasted when she barely could make out what they were saying. Their voices all but stopping when she knocked on the door.

Without waiting for an invitation she let herself in. All three of them stood at the large oaken table covered in maps and missives. Drynne’s eyes suspicious and watchful of Moro’s movements. Before the warrior could speak, Solas restrained her.

“Solas.”  
“Yes Moro? Is something wrong?”

Moro clung tightly to her clothes, grateful that her anxiety did not go unnoticed by Solas as his eyes softened, urging her to speak up.

“We must speak.”

Moro saw the reluctance in his posture to leave the war-room, her immediate instinct to demand he speak with her at that very moment. Her tone and next choice of words surprising both generals as Moro began to make her way out.

“Sathan Ma’lin, come find me as soon as you can. It’s important.” 

An eager nod was the last she saw from him as she closed the door behind her. The worrisome façade crumbling into a hard calculated stare as she sharply turned to the guard outside the passageway that led to the chamber she was previously in.

“Tell the Dread Wolf I will be in my rooms.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time it took between then and now for Solas to show up were agonising. With no knowledge of what was going on in the world, and whether he had already sent his men or not lost to her. All she could do was pace about her room, cleaning it over and over had done nothing to placate her worry.

She jumped at the knock on her door, running to open it. Solas was surprised that she had not simply yelled for him to enter as she usually did, even more surprised at the breath of relief that escaped her as she greeted him.

Solas watched as she turned her back, her steps slow as she leaned against the door that led out to the balcony.

“Ma’sal’shiral what has happened? Your distress is unsettling.”

Distress? Yes, Moro was certainly distressed. Regardless of the act she felt she was playing; it was all too real. Ramia was in danger, her success in this moment would determine her fate. If she could find a way to change Solas’ course she would take it. Nothing was ever a full façade when Solas was involved. Tonight was no different.

“I know what you plan Solas.”

Solas’ brow quirked in question, his eyes falling on the simple band in Moro’s hand. Ramia’s band. It was enough for him to deduce what Moro spoke of. He made to speak but was cut off.

“I know I can’t stop you. You cannot look weak in front of your men,” Moro turned to face him, the fear in her eyes giving Solas pause. “I know that burden all too well…but this is not some stranger Solas. This is my daughter.” Moro argued. “You will permit me to offer an alternative course won’t you? I know you don’t wish Ramia harm any more than I would.”

Solas tilted his chin up, curiosity and apprehension both laced along the frown curving of his lips. 

“Let me go to her. Let me convince her to leave without the need for your men to invade Skyhold.”  
“No.”

Moro dropped the band in her hand. She felt at this point she could easily resort to anger, demands or yelling. But all she could feel was the steady increase in her heart beats, her blood running cold as fear flooded her. ‘No’ mumbled repeatedly from her mouth as she rushed to Solas’ side.

“You can’t.” Moro whispered against his chest, her head shaking as she refused to believe his outright refusal.

“She will be given the chance to surrender peacefully.”  
“Bullshit! I know you’re sending that bitch after her! And you know just as well as I do Ramia will not surrender.” Moro scream with righteous fury. She searched him for any sign of remorse, any chance of persuading him, but he would not look at her.

“I will not be manipulated in this Moro.”  
“I’m not trying to manipulate you! I just want to see my daughter; I want to help her. Please Solas…don’t do this.”  
“You know I can’t let you leave…”

A hard silence fell on them both, Solas incapable of facing the look of betrayal on Moro’s face. She looked away to the side as she had an internal debate. Solas watching as Moro withdraws from him, the silence still deafening in the air as she sits herself upon the bed, her hands folded in her lap.

They stayed like that for some time, Moro staring off into the distance while Solas stood by the fireplace with a pained expression. 

“Solas, do you recall a story I once told you? Of how I came upon Clan Lavellan?”

“You were city-born, you did not join the Dalish till you were a child,” Solas slowly approached her, unsure where her line of questioning would take them, but a fond brief smile still graced his face. “I remember everything you have ever shared with me Vhenan.”

Moro made no reaction to his words made to comfort, her eyes still hard and staring ahead of her as she recounted moments of her youth better forgotten.

“I never told you how the journey to find them had transpired.”

There was an uncomfortable presence around Moro, enough so that Solas opted to stand than to sit beside her. But he remained silent, his own confirmation for her to continue.

“Me and my father spent at least a month in those woods. By the time the Dalish found us, I was so thin you could count the ribs my skin…my father fared no better.” Moro confessed, her hand rested across her stomach as her lips curled at the memory. “The starvation left me a wreck. I cried and cried for days on end for food my father could not give me…”

“Moro…”  
“My father…a very proud, very hard man…fell to his knees in front of Keeper Deshanna. He grovelled at that woman’s feet and begged like a dog for her to take us in. To leave him behind if need be and help me.”

Solas watched as Moro pushed back tears, her hands like vices on the robes she wore. Recounting the events bringing out a certain level of disgust from her he always saw in her when she saw those behave in ways she felt beneath them. Pride was a vice his love held onto like a life-line. 

“My father was a man who needed complete autonomy in his life. He needed control but was placed in a slum where none was to be had for flat-ears.” Moro spat the words like poison. “When he was dying he made me promise that I would never relinquish control to anyone. Be better than what the world will want of you. Never grovel. Never degrade myself…”

Moro exhaled long and shaky, the crease in her brow deepening as she was pushed to her limits.

“And now…it seems I must break that promise.”

Solas watched as Moro rose up from the bed, but instead of rising higher his eyes followed to her sinking lower to the ground. The falling of his heart to the pit of his stomach as horror enveloped him sending him rushing toward Moro as she fell to her knees.

“No no no no no! Please Ma’lath, Ma’sa’lath don’t!” 

But Moro would not budge, head bowed to the ground at his feet as she begged and pleaded at him to let her see Ramia, her voice breaking as she sobbed at his feet. Both for fear of her child and the forgoing of her pride. 

Moro could see no other option and she knew the idea of such a position would distress and repel her lover. She knew such actions would bring him shame, to know he made her resort to such displays for her request. 

But Moro was also scared. She did not trust Drynne, she knew if she could not stop Solas’ plan Ramia was in terrible danger. She promised Ramia years ago when they lost their clan that she wouldn’t let anything stop her from protecting her. Moro had no intention of breaking that promise. No matter what she must resort to.

She felt Solas’ hands pull at her, his voice croaking at the sight of tears on her face and her pleas coming out in sobs.

“Don’t hurt her,” Moro gripped at his pelt, hands moving up to grasp his face as hot tears fell from her cheeks. “Let me see her.” Moro buried her face into his neck and wailed.  
Solas was beside himself. He had not seen Moro so broken and distraught in such a way since her clan’s death when she believed Ramia dead. 

“I’ll come back,” she whispered, her hand pulling his face towards her. “I’ll come back to you I promise. Just let me convince her to abandon Skyhold.” Moro pleaded, her face pressed against his cheek, small whispered pleases escaping her.

“Alright…”

Her eyes widened, not truly convinced at what she had heard.

“If you can convince her to relinquish Skyhold without the need for bloodshed…” Solas exhaled a heavy long sigh through his nose. “I will allow it…” 

Without thinking Moro wrapped her arms around him, her crying louder as Solas pulled her close. Relief overwhelming her as she realised the opportunity given to her. Despite it all she could see the reluctance in his eyes. His tone commanding, his words leaving no room for argument.

“You will have an escort.”

Moro nodded in understanding, holding his hand close to her.

“Once your business is done you will return back swiftly, and you will speak no more of escape. You fight with me on this no longer.”  
“No more.” She agreed.

Solas gave a small grunt in the back of his throat before pulling himself and Moro both to their feet. Running his thumbs across the apples of her cheeks, wiping away the excess tears before grasping her face firmly and planting a hard kiss on her lips. Swallowing her gasp of surprise.

“This fight should have ended long ago Moro. Neither of you will meddle any longer.”

When Abelas returned he had expected to see soldiers, but the trip back to the castle was quiet. His eyes trained sharply on Drynne as she marched in his direction with barely contained anger to her steps. 

“What has you so vexed Drynne?”  
“Fen’harel gives in to the whims of his whore too easily.”

“Regardless of how you feel about her Drynne,” Both Abelas and Drynne turned to the source of the voice. Yara slowly descending the marble steps with a casual indifference that tempted Drynne’s irritation to higher heights. “She is his chosen. You would do well to remember that when you throw such slurs about.” There was a dark warning tone to the last statement that even Drynne curbed her tongue from lashing out at, instead cursing under her breath and leaving the castle. Yara’s eyes watching like a hawk at her every step.

“I apologise for Drynne’s poor conduct Abelas.”  
“There’s been a change of plan I presume?”

“Yes, I think Drynne was looking forward to getting her hands on that Ramia girl. Have they met before?”  
“They have clashed, on a few separate occasions...”

“I see…well, I am glad you’re here. I’m afraid I must ask you to remain here at the castle while I’m away.”

“Away?”

“Yes, ties in with Drynne and her poor mood. The Inquisitor suggested sending herself to convince her daughter to leaving Skyhold voluntarily. Our leader agreed, surprisingly.”  
Abelas was pleased to hear of the turn of events.

“And you are to escort her I take it?” Abelas asked, Yara’s response a polite smile and nod. 

Despite the robes Abelas was able to pick up the sight of armour gleaming beneath. If their plan was to work Yara could not be present. A complication too large to circle around once Moro arrived at Skyhold.

“When do you leave?”  
“Within the hour, if we are not delayed.”

Abelas gave a curt nod before excusing himself, winding up the large stairs and turning to the swirling staircase that led to Moro’s chambers. His pace picking up once he was out of sight. He knocked sharply on the door, hearing a young child’s voice on the other end. 

“Abelabalub.”

The sentinel smiled at Laisa, who had opened the door to greet him. Ignoring her grip on his leg as he involuntarily carried her across the room with each stride. Moro was already geared up and ready to leave, hair tied up and carefully wrapping a scarf for coverage. Her moves much more slow and precise after having to re-learn the simple act with one arm.

“Abelas, I’m happy to tell you that things are going according to plan.”  
“Oh? Are you aware Yara is to be your escort?”

Moro paused, the smile on her face ever so slowly twisting into a sneer.

“What?”

Moro wrapped her nails across the vanity surface. Trying to remain calm.

“We need him occupied, something serious enough that would keep him from anything else.” Abelas suggested, his own irritation showing subtly.

Moro’s eyes darted across the room before landing on Laisa, a smirk growing on her face.

“Darling, come to mommy.” Moro cooed, pulling the smiling eager child into her lap, pushes kisses against her cheek and making her daughter erupt in giggles. “I have something very important I need you to do.”

“Why?”  
“Because I need you distract Yara-”  
“Ok.”

Moro chuckled deep in her throat and the girl’s immediate response. Laisa’s dislike for the mage just as harsh as her own.

“Off you go then!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Yara could describe his mood right now it would have to be good. Yes, Yara was feeling particularly good that morning. Solas had approached him and asked him to send and bring back Moro from Skyhold.

Not only had he once again been chosen to single handily take charge of an important task, he was now going to be able to get away from that insufferable palace. Most of his life as a Dalish Keeper made staying in one place too long a somewhat suffocating predicament.

To be safe he had simple light armour under his keeper robes, thick and heavy to combat the cold weather of the snowy mountains that Skyhold was encompassed by. He groaned slightly as he finally made it to the last step of the staircase at the far centre of the vestibule, tutting slightly to himself when he did not see Moro waiting for him.  
But that was the last of his problems. As an ear-splitting scream erupted and boomed through from some far flung corner of the palace. Echoing through and into the vestibule. 

The elderly mage ran a hand over his face as he groaned with frustration.

“Not again…”

Yara trudged as fast as he could back up the steps, the sight of Laisa laying on the floor, screaming and wailing in that spoilt childish way. Tears streaming down her face, her screams rising even higher once he reached the top of the stairs. How the girl was able to scream so loud and so agonisingly painfully without damaging her own vocal chords as often as she did was a mystery to the old man.

Guards stood nearby but how no clue how to deal with the child. Moro had made it clear no one was to touch her, and none of the servants or soldiers posted would dare touch Laisa if it meant incurring the mistress’ wrath. Yara laid his staff by the banister, slowly approaching the child.

“Now now, da’len…we have done this dance a thousand times now…”

Laisa screamed and cried louder, Yara was grateful that his master wasn’t here. Although it was always so convenient that Solas was NEVER around to help when his daughter acted out in such a way.

“We both know there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” Yara hissed through gritted teeth, more than familiar with Laisa’s little ‘episodes’. Still the child continued to cry, twisting and flailing on the ground, crying for her father. Yara fell to his knees.

“What do you want from me child?! Why do you do this to me?! Why must you make my life difficult at every turn?!” 

Yara was so distraught he had not noticed Abelas approach, the sentinel walking calm and slow with hands loosely behind him. Stopping to observe the spectacle.

“The Inquisitor is waiting for you.”

“I know…”

“You should probably placate the child."

“I know…”

Both remained silent for a moment as Laisa continued to scream, Abelas unfazed by the situation while Yara had his face buried in his hands.

“Would you like me to-” 

“Yes. Please.”

“Good luck Yara.” Abelas murmured before heading back towards the palace entrance to travel with Moro to Skyhold. 

It took some time, but eventually Laisa ceased her tantrum, silence and serenity once again brought to the palace. Yara stood in the grand hall, a wistful sigh escaping him as he looked at the large crystal drapery that was the palace entrance. Turning back to find other duties, the bane of his existence sat at the bottom of the vestibule steps. Chewing on a pastry with smug satisfaction.

His mouth dropped agape as the child stared him dead in the eye, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Mocking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen:
> 
> Sathan Ma’lin- Please Partner/lover  
> Ma’sal’shiral- My life. Essentially, “Love of my life,”  
> Ma’lath, Ma’sa’lath- My love, My one love


	6. Chapter 6

“Solas is giving you from this time tomorrow to get to Skyhold and return.”

“That’s longer than I expected him to offer.”

“He understands you may wish to spend some time together with Ramia, whatever display you showed back in the palace has clearly moved his compassion.”

Moro felt giddy, excited. She and Abelas had finally past the palace entrance and were on their way to Skyhold. The scenery had not changed much since last she was here, and there was no eluvian in sight. Moro could have sworn there was one last she was here.

Abelas walked a few steps ahead of her till they came to the edge, the palace stood on a piece of landscape that floated among many others. Other old ruins and long abandoned wonders floating endlessly in the skies of the crossroads.

“There is nothing here Abelas, where is the way out?”  
“If you want to leave you will have to take a leap of faith Inquisitor.”

Moro quirked a brow in question, then gasped as without hesitation, Abelas descended from the edge. Moro watched as Abelas disappeared from sight then ran after him, stopping abruptly at the edge, not wanting to fall from the edge.

“Abelas?!”

When no answer came she remembered his words and took a step forward, wobbling slightly on her feet when she realised she was not falling. Her feet remained on the ground she was on, as she found she was now upside-down, or right-side up? She was not sure, her body felt afloat as she continued walking, confused as to why she wasn’t falling until she felt up right once again. Finding herself on the other side of the floating landscape.

There was nothing ahead of her on this side of the large rock, only flat ground and an eluvian standing alone far off in the distance. Abelas gestured for her to follow, not wishing to delay and wait for her to adjust.

“What on earth just happened?”  
“You have ventured this realm enough times, are you really still surprised at what is possible here?”  
“True, but still. That was…slightly nauseating.”

“I would say you’ll get used to it, but I doubt either of us will be venturing here again once our task is concluded.”

That was true Moro realised. How Solas will react to both the power of the Well no longer within reach, and the loss of his ‘most trusted’ general was unknown to her. He would be furious she was sure, but the consequences of their actions today were unimportant to her. She had worked for too long to better her people’s lives to allow him to throw it away for his fallen empire.

No matter how much she loved him, she could not put him above her people or her children.

“You should wear this.”

Moro turned to accept the large and heavy furred cloak. She soon learnt the need for it when they passed through the eluvian and were surrounded by snow, the wind howling and biting at her cheeks. Abelas erected a barrier to deflect the worst of the storm, urging Moro forward, Skyhold visible in the distance.

Moro was glad more than ever of current circumstances. To think the eluvian was so close to Skyhold.

Ramia and the others would have had no time to defend themselves. She gritted her teeth, both at the cold and the thought of what could have happened if Drynne was sent in her place.

Moro didn’t stop and question the desolation of Skyhold as she and Abelas passed the gates. Only a handful of soldiers remained as they stood inside the grand hall, unchanged despite her absence. One of the soldiers immediately recognised her, giving a curt bow of respect before approaching her.

“Inquisitor?!”  
“Where is Ramia?”  
“Mother…?”

Moro turned swiftly, heart swelling and tears welling up in her eyes at the sight before her.

Ramia stared in disbelieve, almost unsure whether her mother truly was there standing before her. They slowly approached one another, Moro’s hands coming up to cup her daughter’s face, swiping a hand through her hair before her tears flowed free. Small bubbles of laughter erupting out of her.

They both clung to each other fiercely, it had been too long that they were kept apart. The burden of her mother’s absence hit Ramia hard and her crying became harder, the realisation that her trust in Abelas was not misplaced. She buried her face into the furs covering her mother’s shoulders.

When they both pulled away, Moro’s own tears had dried. Ramia’s breathing came out in heaves as the pressure of the situation still anchored her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried, I tried so hard but everything’s going wrong…”  
“Hush girl, the only one who needs to apologise is me,” Moro wiped away at Ramia’s eyes. “You should never have had to take on this burden.”  
“Laisa! Is she alright?”

“Laisa is Laisa,” Moro laughed. “You know how blissfully unaware she is, or perhaps she has her father’s manner for internalising everything…” Moro’s face became more stern, Ramia stood more rigid, ready to hear what she had to say.

“Has Abelas told you what I intend to do?”  
“He hasn’t told me no.”

Moro nodded, signalling for Ramia to follow. Informing Abelas to make preparations while she spoke with her daughter. They ascended the steps to her old room, a small sigh of contentment at realising not much had changed. She sat on the large four-poster bed and patted the space beside her, Ramia taking cue to sit down.

“We have a lot to discuss.”  
“Do we have time?”

“We do,” Moro assured her, taking Ramia’s hand in hers. Like she was reminding herself she was here alive and healthy. “You remember when I told you about the voices of the well yes?”

“I do, they’ve helped you better understand elvhen haven’t they? That’s why it’s been easier to travel through old ruins.”

“Being trapped in Solas’ prison makes the power useless to me, and not being a mage has added to that as well. I never wanted you to take my place to save this world Ramia, I have never wanted you to suffer any of my grievances.”

“Mother…?”

“I am offering the power of the well to you Ramia. This is what me and Abelas have planned. You wish to stop Solas yes? Is this what you truly want?”  
Ramia gave pause, taking in what her mother was proposing.

“Without any foci you are unmatched against him. The well will serve you better than it ever did me. Especially if you intend to travel to Estwatch.”  
“How did you know I was heading there?”

“Abelas informed me of your plans on the way here,” A small proud smile stretched on Moro’s face. “That was going to be my next move after June’s temple. So well done.”  
Ramia blushed and smiled at her mother’s praise.

“He has a spell then? To pass the power onto me?”  
“He does. He says you will be left indisposed due to it. He promises to watch over you during the process.”

Ramia stared, confused. She couldn’t quite read the expression on her mother’s face as she continued to speak of Abelas and his role in all of this.

“He is going quite far out of his way for you,” Ramia stiffened at the low, wary tone of her mother’s voice. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me Ramia?”

“We haven’t done anything.”

“I never said you did,” Ramia cursed inwardly at her complete lack for subtly, the one thing she never had in common with her mother. “Why would I think you have?”

An awkward silence fell over both of them, Ramia too scared and reluctant to confess anything. Mostly because she honestly didn’t know what to tell her mother.

“I...kissed him...maybe. A year ago but…I never saw him again until he found you.”  
“Why?”

“I was angry. I wanted someone apart from Solas to blame for what happened when you and Laisa were taken away, I felt betrayed by him even though he had no reason to be on my side with anything back then…” Ramia began fiddling with the loose fabric of her tunic, unable to look her mother in the eye as she relayed the information.  
“I asked him to find you, I never wanted to see him again until he did.”

Moro hadn’t expected that, she wanted to suspect the worst of Abelas. It was clear the both of them did not truly understand what it was between them that effected them so much. Ramia was still young, and with too much on her plate to sit down and really think about Abelas, and what her feelings were for him.

And Abelas? While he was reluctant to relinquish any information to her on his own feelings, he cared enough about Ramia to abandon his place with Solas. Both of them were being foolish Moro felt. But if Ramia was anything like herself in matters of love, she knew telling her ‘no’ would only make her go after Abelas even more.

“If he helps me, if he does this he’ll be seen as traitor, won’t he?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why is he doing this?”

“You know why Ramia,” Moro lifted her chin with a finger, smiling despite the serious hard look in her eyes. “Figure out what you feel for each other and enjoy it. You’re falling for a man that will either bring endless happiness or great pain. Abelas seems just as confused as you are or perhaps worse, and he is risking much to ensure your safety and your life…even if it means abandoning his duty and taking on another.”

Moro gives Ramia’s hand one last squeeze.

“He is a sentinel and they have never belonged in wars, they protect. His liking for you has made whatever inner turmoil he has had win over fufilling the role Solas has set out for him. All he knows is his duty, the path he’s walking will hit him hard and he will no doubt feel lost and dismayed constantly. Be there for him, and don’t let him down.”

Moro kissed the back of Ramia’s hand before rising to her feet.

“You said the Cullen was here?” Moro inquired to change the subject.  
“Yes, so is Heir and some of the others. They would probably want to speak with you.”

Moro gave her cheek a small squeeze before heading back down to find Cullen.

For a while Ramia was alone, the crackling from the fire the only sound breaking the silence. Having her mother back; short-lived as it may be, gave her a chance to breathe. A chance to think about everything. Particularly Abelas.

“Ramia?”

Abelas stood at the top of the stares, Ramia gave a meek smile before lowering her gaze to her lap. She wasn’t telling him to leave, that was enough for him to venture further into the room and stand before her. It stayed like that for some time in an awkward lull.

“I heard you’re defecting.”

“I am.”

“Is that what you really want? This isn’t your world Abelas, you shouldn’t give up your duty for one person.”

“I feel no pride in taking part in Solas' plans, I haven't for a long time.”

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Ramia asked, her voice raising slightly. “You’re turning your back on your people!”

“I am turning my back on an idea. Not my people,” Abelas looked out towards the horizon outside the bedroom windows. “When I heard Elvhenan could be restored I was certain that was what I wanted. I had only been awake for a limited time. By the time we met, I was well reminded the weariness war brings.”

“You think this is a war?”

“Not yet no. But it will be, the people of this time are incredibly stubborn,” Abelas sent a small smile in her direction at the word stubborn, earning himself a glare from Ramia. “With Solas’ plan, there will be so much chaos…destruction…I have always taken joy in my roles and place through life Ramia. There is nothing to be proud of in what will come if he succeeds.”

Abelas walked up to Ramia, taking her hands in his own and pulling her to her feet.

“Things have changed now because of you. Because of many others who have shamed me of my ignorance to a life made people from ashes my world created.”

“Do you like me?”

It was a reasonable question, one that needed to be answered. One he wasn’t expecting, enough that it gave him pause. She needed to know, everything between them was happening so fast and hard and now things were going deep. They were on the verge of declaring war on Solas.

If Abelas planned to go through fire with her there had to be a solid reason. Her mother told her not to let him down, she needed to know how far his feelings went.

“Bend down Abelas, my neck is starting to hurt trying to look you in the eye.” He snorted at that, lowering onto one knee so they were at eye level. The humour gone from both their faces.

“Do you like me Abelas? I’ll admit it’d be weird. I mean, personally I’ve never liked anyone **this** hard so I don’t know if this…” Ramia flaps her hand back and forth between them. “Is something? You're growing on me, that’s for damn sure. I don’t know why cause your kind of a dick.” Abelas’ eyes crinkle at her jest, his hands moving from her own to grasp at her waist. Pulling her closer. Her babbling endeared him but he held his tongue on that. Allowed her to voice her jumbled thoughts.

“I do like you Abelas. Even though it’s been so long since we saw each other.” The last confession was muffled against his shoulder. The more she confessed the smaller she felt, his gaze too intense for her. It felt easier admitting her feelings to his shoulder than his face.

Abelas pulled Ramia closer, sighing at the feel of her against him. A feeling of weight reducing and warmth flooding him at having her close. He had not felt like this since Arlathan Forest, when he last spent time with her. It felt right, made him feel more assured of his decision to aid her.

“We care about each other da’lath’in. Enough for you to trust me, and enough for me to venture a different path. Let that be enough for now.”

Ramia pulled her face away from his shoulder. Biting her lip before deciding to push them against his own. Abelas expected it the moment her eyes lingered on his mouth, deepening the kiss as he pulled Ramia closer. Both reluctant to break apart, only a moment was taken to catch their breaths before Abelas was taking her mouth again. A hand sinking into her hair while her own arms wrapping tighter around his neck.

“I missed you.”  
“As did I Ramia, more than you know, more than I expected.”

They were interrupted by the sound of Ramia’s name being called, Renee rushing up the top of the stairs with surprise on her face and breathless. The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, Abelas and Renee stared square at each other.

Ramia looked back and forth at them, a hand on Abelas’ as his tightened his hold on her. Renee’s face twisted into an angry sneer as she stared down at the sentinel.

“Renee? What’s wrong?”

The servant ignored her, her eyes trained on Abelas as she made fire in her fist and hurled it in their direction, forcing Abelas to charge to the ground and take Ramia with him.

“Don’t move.” He growled.

“Abelas…?!” Ramia was confused as she stayed rooted to the ground. Why was Renee a mage? Why would she attack Abelas when she would have easily been caught in the crossfire?

“Stand down.” Abelas ordered, unfazed by the attack but his stance was defensive regardless. Renee’s lips curled further, another fire forming in her fist.

“Harellan!”

Ramia was shocked by her words, Renee was human. How did she speak elvhen? And calling Abelas a traitor?

“Renee what are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Ramia’s questions were ignored. Renee continued to spit elvhen at Abelas, nothing Ramia could understand. The anger and betrayal in her words were felt still, and by the look in Abelas’ eyes and the sharp lock in his jaw he clearly didn’t appreciate what was being thrown at him.

“Go back to the Dread Wolf spy, your services here won’t be needed anymore.”

Renee was so lost in her anger that she had not noticed Moro’s approach, or the dagger that slid across her throat.

The human servant fell like a sack to the floor as life oozed out of her into a pile of blood. Her human features slowly shifting away to reveal elven ones, an illusion. Her scarred, cut up arms showcasing how such a disguise was possible. A blood mage.

Moro stared down at the corpse unimpressed, cocking her head to the side at a latter sticking out of the spy’s clothes. Handing the letter to Abelas.

“I thought it strange how unsettled she was by my presence downstairs. I certainly hope this is the only rat you hid in Skyhold?”

“She is.” Abelas assured her.

“I’ll have to inform Cullen.” Moro left the room once again. Leaving both Abelas and Ramia alone, concern flooding him when he noticed the shock and distress on Ramia’s face.

“She was a spy…Solas knows exactly where I’m going. What I’ve been doing.”

Ramia’s eyes darted from one direction to another before landing on the letter in Abelas’ hand, slightly worn but the seal on the envelope sending her into a panic.

The symbol was Tevinter.

She grasped the letter and ripped it open, mumbling the contents as she read through it. Her voice becoming shakier and more panicked as she realised the letter was from Dorian.

“He sent this letter months ago…he’s been waiting for a response! She kept the letter from me!”

She was pacing back and forth, her heart beat racing.

“Abelas she had access to my room! She probably saw all my plans! Why do I keep fucking up?!” Ramia was in a panic, tears returning again and her breathing becoming more laboured. “What if he got to my contact?! What if there’s an ambush waiting?! And now I have to take the Well’s power and it’ll probably kill me!”

Ramia’s harsh breathing was beyond regular and it worried Abelas, the weight and pressure had finally hit Ramia in full force as she was thinking up every worst case scenario. He was pulling her by her hands till he sat on the bed and she stood in front of him, her eyes darting everywhere as she struggled to steady her breathing.

“I can’t breathe…everything’s going wrong…I can’t…!”  
“Breathe in Ramia. Breathe!”

Ramia closed her eyes, trying to do what he said the hand he placed on her chest easing the process. Giving her a point to concentrate on as she took in a large intake of breath.

“Hold it in... now breathe out.”

Ramia struggled but followed as best she could, Abelas helping her repeat the process as many times as she needed till her breathing went back to normal and her panic reduced. His hand moving from her chest to rub at her shoulder.

“You have not failed Ramia, and I will not let the spell harm you. I will be there. You will not be alone in this.”

Ramia eyes were closed as she regained control of herself, nodding away to acknowledge his words.

“When your mother returns we will begin,” Abelas cupped her face and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“We will notify your Tevinter ally of what has happened. You’re not alone.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just short bit to move things along, for any of you reading this who didn't really like Moro but enjoy her daughter Ramia a lot more you're in luck!
> 
> Ramia's gonna be taking centre stage after this.
> 
> This needed to be written however.

“Where is she?!” 

Solas’ voice boomed through the palace as he stormed through the halls. Anger and fury charging his every step. The servants stayed well clear of their master as he made his way to the palace tower where Moro’s room was kept. Yara was close behind, struggling to maintain Solas’ growing anger or keep up with him.

“She’s in her room, soldiers were sent as soon as we realised what had happened. Please sir you must calm yourself!”

Solas was livid. He cursed himself for going against his better judgment and letting Moro loose, he cursed himself for not taking better note of Abelas, for letting so many things slip through the cracks. His general’s reserved nature had worsened ever since June’s temple, he had hoped his eagerness for more freedom in his work was a sign of his dedication to his their cause and not plans for betrayal. 

But Solas was wrong. Ramia had become more dangerous, if she even survived whatever spell had been concocted to give her the Well’s power. And now he lost his best general.  
Moro’s laughter echoing through the staircase only elevated his raw anger, taking the stairs two at a time and all but ignoring Yara’s pleads as the man followed after him.  
The sight before him when he slammed open her bedroom doors was not one he would have wished to see.

Moro’s bloody leathers were discarded on the floor. Her hair was wet and dampening the bed as she laid across it, cackling away despite two heavy armoured and well-armed guards that kept watch over her. Their scowls clear and intense. They would run their swords through her given the chance. But Solas would not allow it, even after all of this he still would not allow it.

“Leave us,” Solas ordered, the two guards saluting before making their way back to their posts. “That includes you, Yara.”

Yara sighed, finding no words to ease his master’s ire or minimise the severity of the situation. His hands falling to his sides as he left the two dysfunctional elves to their own devices. Moro’s laughter slowing to a giddy giggle as he closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut was met with sharp steps and hands grabbing sharply to Moro’s biceps as she was hauled up to her knees on the bed. Instead of fear or shock Solas was only met with more amusement, gasp of laughter erupting forth from her. His rough treatment doing nothing but humouring the Moro even further. Which caused him only more frustration.

“Why?!” Solas cried out, scornful as he shook her in some attempt to silence her arrogance, to knock some sense where he saw none. The laughter ceased, but her eyes still shone with triumph and her grin stretched from ear to ear. “Are you so desperate to stop me to sink to such tactics?”

“It worked didn’t it?” Moro remarked, another deep throaty chuckle burst from her as she watched him try so hard to hold in the best of his anger.

“She could have died!”  
“Oh shut up Solas,” Moro shoved him away, laying back on the bed. A low whine escaping her as she bent backwards to stretch and recline across the furs. “We both know that’s not what you’re worried about. Take your defeat with a little grace won’t you?”

“You think this is some matter of pride?!”

Moro shrugged with casual indifference. Solas ran a hand down his face, the prospect of Moro’s actions hitting him in full force.

“You set your own child against me in some last attempt to best me.”  
“We’re both well aware Ramia made that choice all on her own the moment she rejected your offer to join me here. I’ve just evening out the playing field a little.”

Solas sank onto the bed, elbows resting on his knees. There were a thousand matters that needed his attention twice fold now due to Moro’s meddling. Ramia’s place in this fight and his denial towards it was crumbling before him. He didn’t want to fight her; his heart broke at the idea of doing so. 

He stiffened slightly. Moro was crawling slowly towards him and sliding her arms around and over his shoulders. The gesture much too intimate for the situation.

“Perhaps you’re just upset that you’re not so hard to manipulate as you probably would like to believe you are.”  
“You are the last person I would expect such manipulations from Vhenan.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. But ultimately naïve. You don’t lock up the woman you claim to ‘love’ like an animal and expect them to accept it,” Moro brought her lips close to his ear, her mouth curling with distaste. “Were you hoping I’d be all sweet about it? That you’d have your nice big castle where you could bark orders and prepare to destroy the world? That I’d spread my legs for you every night like some good little wife every time you came back from a hard day of slaughter?”

Solas ripped her arms away turning to face her, hurt by her last remark.

“Stop it Moro! Why do you say such things?! Like I have some low opinion of you? I love you…” She had made similar accusations before many years ago when last he hurt her. Crestwood seemed so long ago now but he remembered her biting remarks, but they always came from a place of pain, of betrayal. “I brought you here to protect you…I wanted to find a way to save you and Ramia both.”

“Solas, you could give me every reason in the world for why you do the ridiculous things that you do and it still won’t be enough. Everything you have done up to this point doesn’t prove shit about any ‘love’ you have for me or my children.”

Moro wanted so badly to keep up the cold exterior, but she was tugging at her robes again. That habitual tick when things became overwhelming, when she had to use words instead or fists.

“You could have had everything Solas…friends, a family, people who love and care about you…and you cast it aside for a dead empire.” Moro raised her head to look at Solas. “Who wouldn’t feel low and insignificant by such rejection?”

Solas couldn’t find the words to fight back that response. He could only watch as Moro wiped away any tears that threatened to fall as she quickly regained her composure.

“Look at what you reduce me to. All you ever do anymore is make me cry.” She mumbled as she busied herself, unaware of just how much those words stung. She rose to her feet, straightened herself and grasped Solas’ jaw gently. Tilting his head up to look at her.

“How long will you play this game Moro?”  
“The game you started?”

“No good can come from this. It would be better in the long run, for everyone,” Solas rose from the bed, pulling at Moro’s hand and bringing her close. Pressing his forehead against her own and thanking whatever forces were out there that she didn’t pull away. “You have made everything so much worse Vhenan.”

“I don’t blame your anger my love…I would be angry as well if I thought I had the most important piece on the board all mine and tucked away.”

A smirk slowly etched itself on her features. Solas eyes, once closed opened slowly. That gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach resurfacing once again.

“What are you…?”

“Did you honestly think capturing me would ensure you victory?” Moro questioned with that lilt of amusement, when Solas tried to pull away she gently stopped him. Looking him in the eyes as she rubbed softly up and down his chest. The affection contrasting with the predatory sharpness of her gaze.

“How long have you planned this...?”

“You made the mistake of marking me for the queen when the real one is still out there Solas. I suggest you start playing for real, because I was never the one you should have been worried about keeping locked away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the lack of attention for this story but at the same time my writing sucks so I shouldn't be surprised.
> 
> Not that i'm going to stop wiritng this but it's one of those days.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramia finally meets Varric's contact

Her body felt heavy, and it hurt too much to try opening her eyes. All her other senses becoming aware of her surroundings in its place. The softness of sheets she laid upon, soothing for what skin was exposed at the back of her neck, her arms. Someone had tied her hair up, badly if the random points of her roots that felt more tugged than others were any indication. 

She could smell incense; it was strong in the room but it felt sharp going up her nose. That sharpness elevating the heavy lull her head that was always tempting for her to succumb to. The sound of chatter and conversation was a muffled background noise that strangely made her feel safe and sound. 

When enough of the incense was taken in she attempted to open her eyes again, squinting to adjust to the blaring sunlight that came in through the window by the bed. Her eyes quickly turning at the sight of a figure moving from one side of the room to sit beside her.

“Enaste…”

Ramia whimpered with slight pain when she moved her head too fast, reaching out instead at the familiar voice. Her hopes confirmed when Abelas sat beside her, a hand by her forehead as healing magic glowed from his hand his other taking hold of her own that reached out to him.

Concern growing inside her, Abelas looked almost too relieved to see her awake.

“Abelas…?”  
“How do you feel?”  
“Tired…hungry…tired…”

Abelas smiled, brushing a few stray curls that escaped. His hand putting slight pressure on her shoulder to push her down when she attempted to rise. She grumbled her displeasure, which didn’t get her very far. She knew he wanted to her to sleep, but she had so many questions.

“How long was I out?” 

Her voice came out croaky, most likely rusty from the lack of use and for being asleep for what must have been a long amount of time. 

“Just over a week.”

She didn’t have the energy to yell her surprise but he could see the shock of her expression.

“The spell of passing on the well was easy enough. But severing Solas’ connection was the difficult part, and could not be done till the voices were inside you. I’m sure you can imagine the strain your body would have to go through during that process.”

Enough strain that she’d been out cold for nearly two weeks. After a while it stopped being painful keeping her eyes open, she could see in one corner of the room there were supplies and a staff. Her eyes widened at the sight of her mother’s scarf.

“Is she alright? Where’s my mother?”

Abelas hushes at Ramia’s questions, bringing a cup of tea to her lips and pressed it firmly when she curled her nose at the scent. Insisted she drink it.

“She is back in the crossroads again. No doubt Solas will not let her set foot outside of there again…after what has happened,” Abelas caught the frown Ramia made at the news. 

“It is for the best. It may be a prison, but she is safe there. He will not harm her.”

“I guess you’re right.”  
“I am.”

“Alright alright, take it down a bit yeah?” Ramia giggled, albeit weekly but it still earned her a smile out of the sentinel as he placed the now empty cup on the bedside table. Allowing Ramia to push away his hood and play absent minded with the end of his braid.

“I have also managed to make contact with your Tevinter ally.”  
“Really? How?”  
“He is a loud dreamer.”

“That’s a thing?” Ramia inquired, Abelas’ only response was flicking his hand. The explanation for such things probably too long and tedious to explain, so Ramia did not push the subject. “What did you tell him? What did he say?”

“I told him of our plans. He however cannot leave the North, trying to amass support against Solas while also tackling the Qunari keeps him there. Once we take care of Estwatch and the south we will travel to Minrathos. I have scouted there only once. I never thought I would ever say it would be safer for us there, but it is. I believe things will be in full force once we reach Tevinter…” The atmosphere in the room changed, Abelas drawing Ramia’s attention. His stare hard and serious. 

“You have much to learn and struggle through if you are to stop the Dread Wolf. Amassing an army will require great effort.”

“Yes.”

Her answer was simple and void of excuses or worries. Maybe it was the new power, which even now she could feel slowly becoming less like an intruder and more a part of her. Ramia knew how many lives were on the line, there was no room for weakness anymore. Cautions of how difficult the path before her was needed to be met with acceptance and not hesitation. 

Her mother’s words rung in her head, ‘don’t let him down’. Looking up at Abelas, his expression was unreadable as she reached out for his hand.

“Are you ok?”  
“Hmm?”

“Abelas…” Ramia’s tone was insistent, ignoring his intent to seem aloof. “I know you made this choice, but I want you to tell me how you feel about doing this. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with this.”

“This does bring me some small amount of grief,” Abelas confessed, looking down at their joined hands, hers so much smaller than his own. “I have spent an inordinate amount of time clinging to what was left of our empire and the means promised to us to restore it.” His grip tightened. “But I am not a general Ramia. I guard. I protect. We will restore what was without chaos or bloodshed. However long it will take.”

Ramia smiled, mustering up what energy she could to crawl in Abelas’ lap, ignoring his protest as she embraced him.

“Thank you Abelas.”  
“Yes. Now sleep.”

“Where are we anyway?” Ramia asked, ignoring his order as she quickly manoeuvred over to the window. There was a market place outside, humans everywhere shopping or selling wares.

“The sign at the gate called this place Denerim, I’m afraid quite a bit of your coin has been spent keeping this room.”

“That’s fine,” Ramia’s response was muttered, not really paying attention as she bent her body further out the window to see the passers-by in the streets below. “Never thought I would ever come to Denerim.”

“Da’lath’in…” Abelas was pulling Ramia by the waistline of her pants. “Please rest.”

“Lying down makes me feel ill…I’m feeling better now I promise. I just need to move around more.”

The was a loud knock on door, startling them both. Abelas was pushing Ramia back down on the bed, a low hum that bordered on growl slipping from Abelas. The squeeze to her shoulder enough of a sign for her to remain still. He walked towards the door, his hand poised and ready to attack as he turned the doorknob with the other.

When Abelas opened the door he was greeted by an elf, a jumpy one who shrieked at Abelas’ abrupt opening of the door. His much larger stature doing nothing to help the bumbling elf’s nerves. Abelas did not care for the young elf’s nervous disposition as he cocked his head to the side.

“Yes?”  
“I…have a letter?”  
“Why are you phrasing it like a question?”

“S-sorry,” The elf blurted as he twisted about, digging through his pockets for said letter. Before he could place it in the sentinel’s hand his eyes widened in realisation, withdrawing and keeping the envelope closer to his person. A bead of sweat falling from his brow when Abelas did not react well to his antics.

“I’m sorry sir…I’ve been told to give it to its intended receiver…no one else.”

“And who would that be?”  
“Someone named Lavellan? I’m pretty sure that’s what they said.”  
“There is no Lavellan here.”

Ramia’s head poked out from behind Abelas, a strained but friendly smile on her face as she looked the messenger up and down. Sizing him up.

“I am Abelas.”  
“Hm?”  
“My last name. It’s Lavellan.”  
“Ah.”

And with that Abelas retreated back into the room, though his eyes never left the pair as Ramia made small but polite conversation with the shy elf. When she took the envelope from him, she noticed there was no seal, no sign at all of who it could be from.

“Who gave you this letter?” 

The elf only shrugged.

“I couldn’t tell you, kept a cloak on and everything. Very shady if you ask me, but he had coin to pay and told me to bring you that letter. I don’t say no to easy coin.”

Ramia gave her thanks and let him leave, closing the door behind her.

“It must be Varric’s contact, I can’t imagine it being from anyone else,” She ripped it open and started reading the letter’s contents. “Come to docks…hmm…”

“Is that all it says?”  
“Yeah.”  
“What a waste of paper.”

Ramia snorted before throwing the letter into the fire. A hand went into her hair, remembering the poor mess of her hair. Her eyes turned to Abelas, eyes narrowing and lips curled into a frown.

“Did you do this?” She asked, pointing to the tied up mess of curls. Abelas rolled his eyes, waving a hand as he busied himself.

“An attempt was made and should be appreciated.”  
“Yes Abelas, thank you from rescuing me from a sweaty neck...ugh my hair’s hard enough to handle as it is…ow! My god Abelas what did you do?!”

“Let me help.”  
“Just get me scissors, I’ll cut the damn tie out.”

Once her hair was free and untangled, Ramia set about undressing and putting on a new set of underclothes. With Abelas’ help she was donned in light armour and ready to leave, surprised that Abelas was not arguing for her to rest further. He seemed to catch on to her curiosity, handing Ramia her staff.

“I do not feel it wise to have you charging about so soon after awakening but…” He seemed to stew on his thoughts before gazing back to her. “Can you hear anything? The voices?”

Ramia shook her head, disappointed. She even made an attempt in that moment to use her magic to call it forth but she didn’t even know how to go about doing so. Another thought occurred to her that made her smile, hoping it would reassure Abelas of any doubts to the spell working.

“I haven’t had any nightmares, and you haven’t been helping me so it has to be the well’s power doing that…right?”

Abelas seemed to contemplate her words, that solemn look never leaving him.

“That is enough for now then, let us hope it is simply of matter of giving it time.”

Before they could leave Abelas felt Ramia’s eyes on him, scrutinising him. Namely, his outfit. The door he held just an inch open was closed again by her, a hand then coming to pull his own away from the handle and lead him back into the room.

“You should probably change.”

Abelas looked down at the armour encasing his body. His brow lifting, confused. 

“What is wrong with it?”

“You probably should wear something that doesn’t scream ‘I’m ancient, look how shiny my armour is! Oh by the way the dread wolf’s army wear these exact clothes too, but don’t worry I’m not one of them I promise!’”

“You have made your point.” 

Ramia giggled, nudging him in the stomach. Glad to see the smile on his face, knowing he didn’t take her jest too seriously.

“Come on, I’m sure there’s something left behind in this room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was still quite early in the day when they both made their way to the docks. Abelas was screw-faced the entire time, fidgeting uncomfortably every now and then. Ramia had scoured the entire inn room for a change of clothes and had finally found something that fit well enough for the sentinel. Just barely

Unfortunately, Abelas found the pants too tight and tunic too loose. So used to his signature golden armour as he was, Ramia proved to be the stubborn one of the two. And her point that his old attire would attract unwanted attention was a valid one he could not ignore.

“Stop that.”  
“They are uncomfortable.”

“I’ll find you looser ones as soon as we can, just bear with it for now.”

Abelas scoffed and walked at a faster pace, knowing Ramia found it difficult enough to keep up with his long strides normally. One small act of petulance he could afford himself. When they reached the end of the docks where the ships were kept they came to a halt.

“Did your durgen’len friend tell you who exactly to wait for?”  
“No, but we’re going to Estwatch so let’s find the shadiest looking humans we can find.”

“That’s your plan?”

“I know it’s not much to go on but we had to be careful,” Ramia’s voice trailed off, a frown deepening on her face. “Clearly I’m shit at telling who’s a spy, so keeping this contact hush-hush was the only smart thing I’ve done so far.”

Abelas didn’t need reminding of what Ramia was referring to, the image of her realising the servant at Skyhold’s true identity still fresh in her mind evidently.

“That was not your fault da’lath’in, and it is a matter of the past. You will have plenty more lessons ahead of you, you cannot cloud your mind at every mistake you will make.”  
Ramia nodded, his words helped somewhat so she gave him a smile, enjoying the comfort his hand on her lower back brought. Her eyes panned across all the ships, most of them small. Nothing that seemed wise for long sea travel.

She started becoming impatient as she dodged fishermen, workers and the occasional stray dog. Scanning each and every boat till she came to one on the very end. 

The ship was twice the size of every other sea-faring vessel that led up to it, Ramia remembered the ones she saw in picture books when she was younger and knew some of those holes along the sides were for canons. No fisherman needed those. Her hopes for it to be what she was looking for, felt soon to be proven true as she caught sight of a group of people huddled close to it.

They looked like mercenaries, or pirates maybe, Ramia wasn’t too sure. She took the plunge and approached the largest of the group. A menacing looking man. With every step closer, he seemed to grow taller and taller, which in turn made her bravery smaller and smaller.

“Um…excuse me….” Her voice came out shaky and quiet, she turned to see Abelas standing a few feet away, hip leaning against a pole with his arms folded. A small smile on his face as he waved her off, urging Ramia to do this. Alone.

She was going to give him a good slap later, the glaring narrowed eyes she made towards him was a promise to that. 

The human men didn’t seem to notice her, their rowdy conversation still ongoing until Ramia mustered up some courage, clearing her throat loudly.

The largest man of the bunch looked back and forth before looking down when he felt a tug on his pants. His eyes narrowed, ready for conflict till his gaze actually landed on Ramia, his face softening.

A fraction.

‘Say something’ her brain screamed at her, but there were five of them. Large burly men, armed, tattooed and all around incredibly intimidating in her eyes. The leader of the group’s face turned into one of concern.

“You alright lass?” He asked, his voice not nearly as gruff or intimidating as she expected it to be. 

“Thank gods, you’re friendly,” That earned her a few chuckles from some of the men in the group, which eased her and gave her a bit more courage. “I received a letter this morning, to come to the docks, I’ve organised passage to Estwatch.” The mention of Estwatch got her a few widening eyes from the group. “Would this…be…the boat…I’m looking for…?”

“That’s who the captain says we’re taking all the way to Estwatch?!”  
“Why does she want to go there?! Look at her, couldn’t hit water if she fell in the drink itself.”

“That’s enough,” Ramia turned to find Abelas standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder as he addressed the group. “Where is your captain?”

“The Captain,” everyone’s eyes shot to the landing board connecting the ship to the dock. An armed tattooed elf walking down to join them. “was expecting one passenger. Not two.” When the elf reached them the other men backed away to give him room. Whoever he was he clearly held some higher authority. “Who are you?” he asked, his arms folded in front of him as he regarded Abelas with scrutinising suspicion.

Both elves glared at each other, summing up the other. The tension thick enough to deter any who wanted to venture near. Ramia didn’t care much for their staring match, tugging at Abelas’ shirt.

“Abelas stop glaring.” She whispered. “Stop it!” 

“Fenris! I do hope you’re not causing trouble.” 

The tattooed elf they now knew was called Fenris, turned his head to look over his shoulder. The lift of his cheek indicating a small smile had lifted his features.

“Not entirely.” He remarked, the taller dark-skinned woman coming to a stop next to him. Adorned in a blue and gold uniformed ensemble. If the hat she wore didn’t give her off as the Captain of this ship, the attention and confidence she commanded and displayed did. 

“I…Varric Tethras said you could help me…”

“He didn’t mention there’d be two of them Isabella.” Fenris pointed out to the woman next to him, rolling his eyes when she waved him off.

“Shit happens Fenris, you know that well enough,” Isabella laughed when Fenris walked back up to the ship with a warning grumble. “Don’t mind him sweetheart, he doesn’t usually like being up so early. But my friend does have a point…you were supposed to be alone.”

Before Ramia could answer, Abelas placed a hand to stop her.

“Perhaps we could discuss this in private?”

Both women turned to where his eyes lingered across the dock. To anyone else, the two elves picking up crates were just going about their business, but Isabella saw the way their eyes shifted in their direction every now and then. Understanding that they were being watched, she leads them up and into the ship. Yelling at her men to prepare to set sail. Leading both elves into her cabin.

Despite the early morning, the sunlight didn’t do much to illuminate the room. The deep rich wood and red tones of the furniture keeping the room at a certain level of darkness that needed remedy by candle light. Luckily there was plenty of them to be found.

“Brandy?” Isabella offered as she made herself comfortable on her plush velvet chair, feet propped up on the desk in front of her. “Your friend there looks like he needs it.”

“Maybe later? I think we have a lot to discuss first.” Ramia answered with a certain shyness. Despite Isabella’s friendly nature and apparent indifference to Abelas’ presence, the same could not be said of her ship mate Fenris, who sat on a loveseat nearby. The tattooed elf’s eyes were trained on Abelas, his neutral expression unable to mask what his eyes gave away.

In turn, Abelas did not seem to appreciate the glaring daggers and gave a glare of his own. 

“We do have a lot to discuss,” Fenris agreed. “Like why one of Fen’harel’s dogs is by your side. I know an ancient elf when I see one.”

“He is-”

“I can speak for myself da’lath’in,” Abelas interjected. “I am no longer loyal to the Dread Wolf. I serve another now.”  
“You don’t serve me Abelas,” Ramia almost yelled the words. “We are allies.” 

Isabella seemed to be content in being a silent observer to the conversation at hand as she poured herself a drink, sipping quietly. And watching.

“And why should we believe this?” Fenris asked.

“Because without my influence Ramia would either be dead or captured. Now she has more power, and a better chance of stopping Fen’harel’s plans.” that seemed to grab Isabella’s attention. The pirate captain removed her feet from the desk, replacing it with her now empty glass.

“What power?” She asked. Her question laced more with curiosity than any mistrust.

“The Well of Sorrows,” Ramia waved her hand about nonchalantly. “The usual magic stuff.” 

Isabella gave another chuckle at Ramia’s little quirks, her casual explanation even putting Fenris a little more at ease. 

“I don’t expect either of you to trust Abelas or I so quickly, but he IS the reason I’m here,” Ramia was playing with the leather of her outfit to stifle her nerves. “There’s something at Estwatch that Solas can’t get his hands on. I need to get there…I need you to get me there. Please.”

“Oh darling I’m taking you there, I gave Varric my word I would. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You can understand our caution however.” Fenris added, he seemed a bit more settled, Abelas’ nodding in understanding in the tanned elf’s direction. 

“Right then! Now that awkward introductions are done…” Isabella clapped her hands together, rising to her feet and removing the coat of her outfit. 

“Ever been on a ship before…Ramia was it?” Isabella’s question suddenly reminded Ramia why the tension with Abelas and Fenris earlier wasn’t the only thing keeping her unsettled. Without that distraction she remembered why being on a ship left her feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Once…it wasn’t a pleasant journey…” 

It was nearly ten years ago after surviving her clan’s massacre. Inquisition soldiers taking her away without a word to Skyhold. While now she had the knowledge that they were reuniting her with her mother, the ordeal was still one she wished she could forget. 

The first few nights on this ship would be difficult.

“I would say you’ll get used to it but this trip should only take just under a week. If the weather is kind,” Fenris remarked as he stood by the cabin door. “I assume I will be playing tour guide while you pretend to do work yes?” He didn’t wait for Isabella to answer before he was ushering them both to follow him out onto the deck.

“We’re doing good right? Progress wise?” Ramia whispered to Abelas, grateful when he returned her doubts with a warm smile.

“We are Ramia. Well done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna give a shout out and thank you to everyone reading this and everyone whose dropped a comment on what they think.
> 
> You guys are lovely and i'm glad to know people do like the story, and hoping with the addition of more characters you can tell the adventure is finally gonna begin! haha 
> 
> My chapters usually aim for the 2k mark but this is nearly 4k so you can tell how much more motivated i am LOL
> 
> Oh yeah, I have tumblr: mindtrove.tumblr.com
> 
> <3


	9. Chapter 9 (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for what you have been waiting for.
> 
> Or not.
> 
> My smut skills need work.
> 
> Oh well, I tried.

The last time Ramia was on a ship she was shoved into the hold, cramped and dark. The Inquisition soldiers held onto her like a vice and were silent to her many questions. The deep groans from the ocean outside the walls of the ship ringing loud in her ears. The entire experience a horrible dent in her childhood.

So when Fenris asked if they wanted to explore around the lower levels of the ship she swiftly refused, immediately apologising when she realised how rude she must have sounded. Fenris saw that look in her eye and knew it well enough not to pry. Sometimes some memories were better left alone.

“Not too fond of ships are you?” Fenris asked, redirecting them back onto the deck.

“Just the lower, darker places. I think I’ll be sticking to the deck and the cabin…if that’s alright? Would the cabin be off-limits?”

“You’ll be sleeping in there so no; I doubt it will be.”

They had come to one end of the ship, the sun still high up in the sky. There was a cool breeze and a particularly pleasant scent in the air that could only be found by the sea. Ramia stood on one of the crates, a hand holding onto one of the large ropes and looking back towards Denerim. The city becoming smaller and smaller as they sailed further away.

Abelas and Fenris left Ramia to her curiosity as they both fell into a discussion of their own. Abelas leaning back next to Ramia, arms folded in front of him, with Fenris sitting on top of some barrels. One of Isabella’s men coming over with a long-sword for Fenris, before returning back to his duties.

“So…” Fenris began, pulling a grinding stone from one of the crates and getting to work on his blade. “All we know from Varric is the Inquisitor’s daughter needed help to reach Estwatch. Isabella has her own ‘friends’ among the Raiders there, so it makes sense that he contacted us.”

The conversation caught Ramia’s ear, without moving from her place she turned to address Fenris.

“Your friends with Varric right? Back when the Champion Hawke still lived in Kirkwall right?”

“Yes, when we all went our separate ways I joined Isabella when she got her hands on a ship of her own. Life hasn’t been perfect, but with this Fen’harel mage and what he has planned...I don’t a fig for things long dead and buried, and I don’t feel like dying for it. So you have our aid, that is not within doubt.” He paused his task, drumming his fingers along the handle of his blade and he debated with some internal thought.

“The Raiders of the Waking Sea have a habit of being at each other’s throat at the best of times, Isabella’s hoping to reach out to their need for self-preservation and make them allies to our cause.”

“Our cause?”

“Varric told us everything. This goes beyond your task at Estwatch, you will still need our help. And besides…” Fenris turned to speak to Ramia directly with small smile. “Hawke means a lot to me and Isabella both. While he cannot be here with us, he is still alive thanks to your mother. We’re happy to return the favour.”

Ramia returned the smile with an even larger one of her own.

“Thank you Fenris, although I’m not sure you would want to continue the journey after Estwatch.”

Fenris raised a brow in question.

“Is this because of Tevinter?” Abelas asked her. Fenris scoffed at that as he continued to tend to his sword.

“I am not afraid to return to Tevinter if that is what concerns you. My reason for staying away from there after all these years is long dead.”

“I am sure carrying a sword twice your size sends a clear enough message to any slavers or vagabonds.” Abelas remarked, whether that amused Fenris or seemed like some sort of challenge remained to be seen. It did however make Fenris pause as he looked up at the sentinel.

“I assume you rely on magic like most mages yes?”

There was a bite to Fenris’ question that only Abelas picked up on, on any other occasion he wouldn’t feed into such goading but...

“I have dabbled in swordsmanship.”  
“Not to your tastes?”  
“Not really, no.”

“It does take some level of commitment…and physical strength.” Fenris wasn’t looking directly at Abelas but the taller elf could feel the assumption in his words. Ramia on the other hand was completely oblivious to the growing tension between the two men, her attention turning fully to Fenris as her curiosity peaked.

“I can’t imagine swinging around a sword that big, you must be really strong. Then again you’re a lot muscled than a lot of elves I’ve seen. Isn’t he?” Ramia innocently asked Abelas.

“Yes.”

“Magic is powerful yes but well…I had a good friend once. Strong capable warrior, she made a sentiment I quite agreed with. That a mage shouldn’t solely rely on magic to defend themselves.” Fenris chuckled lightly as he recalled Anders and Merrill getting their asses handed to them by Aveline all those years ago.

“They must not have been very impressive to begin with.” Abelas was clearly unimpressed by the elf, and deep down did not appreciate his insinuations. Ramia’s admiration for him self-evident.

“And what’s going on here?” Both men did not seem too bothered Isabella’s intrusion, but she seemed more interested in grabbing Ramia attention anyway.

“Just extending my curiosity in how someone who lives for thousands of years isn’t more versatile in his battle prowess.”

Abelas scoffed, rolling his eyes. Ramia turned her attention to Isabella when the woman put an arm around her shoulder, leaning closer to the captain’s ear.

“…Are they arguing?”

“They’re having a pissing contest dear, don’t trouble yourself.” She started pulling Ramia away from the two elves, leading her back inside her cabin. “Leave them at it, I have some things I want to discuss.”

Isabella led Ramia back inside the cabin, both of them sinking onto the settee.

“Now that we’re alone, you can tell me all about that friend of yours without having Fenris glaring from across the room.”

Ramia tensed up, she could still see the friendliness in Isabella’s gaze but she still felt on edge. Unsure just how much information to relinquish about Abelas. Could she tell her just how far his affiliation with Solas had gone? The particulars of their own relationship?

“…What do you wanna know?”

“One of my men confirmedd to having a brief run in with him before. He doesn’t seem like a simple soldier or agent.”

Ramia exhaled heavily. She was never good at lying or evading the truth, and if she was honest she didn’t feel like starting now. If they were going to be working together with Fenris and Isabella, she and Abelas had to be forthcoming with the truth. Besides, she could tell by the other woman’s body language that she pretty much had a good inkling of what that truth was, maybe she was testing her.

Ramia couldn’t be bothered for run-around questions, better to just be out with it.

“He was Solas’ general. One of the top, scouted for him all over Thedas but mainly the south. He’s an ancient elf just like him, he didn’t like where things were going so he’s changed sides. He helped my mother transfer the Well of Sorrows to me which has yet to show any obvious signs of an effect on me…so don’t ask about that. And we’re…close…which most likely help a big chunk of the rest of that stuff happen.”

“Well…that was a mouthful.”

“Honesty’s the best policy. So they say,” Ramia declared to end her confession, giving a shrug of her shoulders. “The last thing I need is for us to end up at Estwatch and be left behind there because I wasn’t completely truthful. My mother always said know the worst case scenario and have a solution for it.”

“Your mother sounds like quite the pessimist.”

“She might argue that she’s just realistic. The world has had a habit of screwing her over most of her life.” Ramia’s mood dimmed with the subject of her mother. “She’s gone through a lot of trouble and pain to get me here. I’m not letting her down. If Abelas has a problem with me confessing to all this, he can stuff it.”  
Isabella snickered, rising from her seat.

“Well, that conversation was a lot shorter than I expected it to be. Feel free to make yourself comfortable in there,” Isabella pointed to one of the doors in the cabin, two of them in the room opposite each other. “That’s where you’ll be sleeping while you’re here, if you need anything ask the cabin boy. He’s the only one here younger than you so he should be easy to find.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ramia was more glad than ever for her magic. After asking the cabin boy for anything that could be used as a bathtub, ignoring his protest that water couldn’t be spared for bathing. She spent the rest of the early morning and afternoon freezing the entire inside of a large barrel with ice and leaving it to melt over time. Heating it to speed up the process when she became impatient and the sun had begun to set.

She didn’t care how long at sea they would be; she was going to bathe regularly.

“Abelas you wonderful man!” Ramia proclaimed as she sifted through their shared provisions, finding a bar of soap. After a good amount of scrubbing she descended into the water, staying under for as long as her lungs would allow. Enjoying the sensation of pushing past the water’s surface.

Her last descent was cut short when she heard the bedroom door open. Coming back up for air and grinning when she saw Abelas enter the room, pushing her hair out of her face and crossing her hands over the rim of the barrel.

“Now how did you manage that then?”

“Magic! No seriously, magic.” Ramia giggled, never taking her eyes off Abelas. A sly smile reaching her face as he pulled a stool over to her. Folding his arms in front of him, offering a smile of his own before bringing their lips together.

“It’s nice to finally be alone.” Ramia said, reaching forward again to kiss him again. Abelas hummed low in his throat in agreement. He rose from his stool, much to Ramia’s disappointment but that slowly changed when she saw him removing his shirt. A deep blush coming over her cheeks.

“This sight must be a dream come true for you Ramia.”  
“Yup. But it would be even better if those came off too.” She declared, finger wagging at his constricting pants.

“No shame whatsoever.”

Despite that however he did turn back around to remove the awfully tight pants. Aware of the splashing water indicating Ramia climbing out of the makeshift tub. When he turned around she was on the bed, a towel below her to avoid dampening the bed and a larger one covering her body.

It was a teasing sight. Laying on her stomach, legs kicking back and forth behind her and her hair a curly mess around her. Abelas didn’t need her to vocalise what exactly she wanted, but he still wanted her to.

“You seem quite restless.”

Ramia continued to stare up at him, her chin resting in her hands.

“Full of anticipation.”

Her legs began to kick back and forth much faster, her lips pursed in frustration.

“For what however? Boggles the mind.”

“Abelas. I’m naked, in what I can tell you, is very comfy, very LARGE bed, we’re alone…would you take a hint already?”

Abelas chuckled at her blatant invitation, turning away from her to stand by the barrel filled with water. His hand hovered over the surface, a light emitting from his hand before steam rose up. Before Ramia could protest further he shed the last of his clothes, which shut her up.

Abelas grabbed a cloth from their provisions and started using it to wash away most of his body, splashing some water over his face and running it through his hair.

“I suppose there is no harm indulging.”

When he turned around to face her Ramia immediately sat up on her knees, the towel still clinging around her. Her face flushed at the sight of him, completely bared before her. Her heartbeat only quickened as he slowly approached her, his eyes trained on her own. Commanding her attention. Her gaze never shifting from his own even when he came to a halt before her.

His hands pushed her hair away from her face.

“Sit up ma’esha.”

Ramia licked at her lips before lifting up higher, her rump moving from the back of her ankles. She still wouldn’t turn her eyes away from his own. Even when she felt her shoulders go bare, ignoring the chill in the air. The heat of his gaze enough to keep her glowing.

Abelas’ hands had moved from her shoulders to her arms once the towel fell around her. And where his hands went his eyes followed. His hands coming to a stop by her chest, his pupils dilating as his thumbs traced the curve of her breasts.

“They’ve grown.”

“Really?” Ramia’s eyes lit up, genuine glee clear on her face from his words. Abelas returned her mirth with his own.

“…No.”

“You dick.”

Ramia retreated back to the head of the bed, but Abelas was close behind her. A chuckle escaping him as he watched her pretend to seem more offended than she was.

“Don’t take my words to heart da’lath’in. You’ll permit me a simple jest no?”

Ramia laid on her side, huffing at his words as she continued to ignore him. Which was especially hard when he pushed her hair away, his mouth lavishing the exposed skin of her neck with nips and kisses. His body pressed flush to hers, feeling him harden against her.

“Yeah well you’re old. Cradle robber…” Ramia muttered, turning over to face him and pointing a finger at his chest for emphasis. Abelas only grinned taking her hand in his own.

“You dare point stout, accusatory fingers at me? The audacity.”

“My fingers aren’t stubby!”

Abelas peppered kisses along each digit.

“I have never seen fingers stubbier in my life. My very long, very OLD life.”  
“Yeah well yours are all long and creepy…like a spider or something…”

Abelas leaned him close to her ear. His fingers drifting over her rear till he came to that bundle of flesh where her thigh and the curve of her rear met. Giving it a gentle squeeze.

Ramia’s gasped at his wandering hand, recalling the events almost a year ago. Abelas had such an effect on her then with only his hands and tonight they would be taking things so much further. The idea of it excited her but also terrified her.

Abelas seemed to be able to read her mind, the hand that squeezed her now gentler and softer as he caressed the soft skin of her thigh. His lips pressed firmly against her own again.

“This is daunting for us both, but we can stop whenever you wish.”

Ramia swallowed a lump in her throat, the realisation of what they were about to do dawning on her. Any former bravado seemed far away now as her nerves got the better of her and she started to wonder if this was why Abelas held back all that time ago.

He seemed to catch on to her anxiety when he broke their kiss. Instead off deepening it as he initially intended, he placed a chaste peck by her brow. The hand along her thigh repeating its caresses along the curve of her back.

“Direct me da’lath’in.” He told her, wanting Ramia to feel more in control. His words seem to at least take her out of her inner thoughts.

Both of them rose from their laid down positions, Ramia sitting on the end of the bed while Abelas rose and walked over in front of her as they had previously been. Only now neither of them had anything to hide, completely bared and open to each other. Abelas’ arousal hard and waiting for her attention.

From this position Ramia was at eye-level with his abdomen. Without breaking eye contact, she trailed kisses across the stretch of skin. His stomach tensing at the soft lips inching lower and lower to where he wanted her mouth most.

Shyly, Ramia took the base of him into her hand. A soft whimper escaping her, at the feel of him hard and heavy in her hand. Butterflies in her stomach from the sound of approval coming out in a low groan when she wrapped her fingers around him. One of his hands coming atop her own against his hip while he used the other to sink into her hair, encouraging her to take the head of his length into her mouth.

Abelas sighing at the feel of her lips wrapped firmly around him and urged her on as she played with lips and tongue. Pushing her along the slit of him, his grip on her tightening and pulling her forward to take in more of him. Ramia obliged, eager to please.

“Ramia…” Abelas sighed, the feeling blissful after having gone so long without. His stomach rising and falling rapidly as Ramia adapted quickly. Her head bobbing back and forth along his length, removing her hands from him to allow her mouth only to work on him. Which was more arousing for what reason he couldn’t say. Her own enjoyment apparent in the needy hums that escaped her as she took in more and more of him.

“Fenehidis…”

She was tempted to make a smart comment, but she was taken aback by the way Abelas grit his teeth, eyes closed and his breathing becoming more laboured as he relished in her efforts. Her cheeks flushed, even more so when he pulled her away from his cock and sucked at her bottom lip before devouring her mouth entirely. His tongue pushing dancing against her own as he stole all the breath he could out of her.

“Lie down.” He ordered. Blood pumping and hands already hiking her knees up, encouraging her to lay back on the bed.

“Please.” Ramia giggled as he pushed her down, squeaking at her legs being pushed on either side. Her shyness coming back to her as Abelas left wet kisses all across her inner thighs. She grumbled softly when his lips started trailing lower, lifting up on her elbows and drawing the attention of hungry eyes.

“Mmm… Gaildahlas,” Despite the hesitation in her voice, Abelas brightened at the endearment. The elvhen language a rarity from his new found lover of sorts. His cheek resting against her thigh as he hummed at her in question. “You don’t have to do that for me…”

She gasped again when he traced a feather-light touch along her slit with his thumb back and forth, his eyes never averting from where his thumb now prodded.

“I want to, you have been terribly generous so far,” Abelas encouraged Ramia to move her hands aside, kissing the hood of her clit. “Relax da’lath’in, let me take care of you.”

“Well…when you put it like that…Oh gods!”

Abelas didn’t waste time lapping heavily at her entrance, his hands firmly holding her down while Ramia had no idea what to do with her own. Pleasure like waves coursing through her, but still all she did was whimper mildly louder than usual. Her breathing sharp and quick through her nose as she bit on her lower lip to stifle any other noises.  
When she was wet enough, Abelas placed all attention on her clit, suckling the swelling bundle of nerves as he pushed a finger inside her.

“Abelas…I’m…”

One finger became two, as he started to stretch her. Preparing her for when he would take her proper. Whimpers becoming moans, her inhibitions leaving her as she called out for him, begging him not to stop. Her hips bucking up to meet him.

“Deeper?”  
“Yes!”  
“Please.”  
“Oh be quiet!”

Abelas laughed more whole heartedly than Ramia had ever heard him laugh in all the time she’d known him, her own not too far behind as he quickly stumbled backwards to give him room. One of his knees pressing against bed to angle his hand better, fingers rubbing her wetness all over her cunt before sinking his fingers back in.

“I swear to whatever power’s out there if I’m like _this_ and it still hurts I’ve lost complete and utter hope in everything.”

He laughed again, stealing another kiss. His fingers driving mercilessly back and forth into her, the kiss more to silence what would have been screams as he drove her to her peak. Her thighs squeezing around his forearm as her body convulsed, riding the waves of her release.

“Not entirely disapointing for a _cradle robber_?”

Ramia felt too good to do anything but give a shaky laugh at his jest, gesturing for him to lie down beside her on the bed. Pulling him down to purr and snuggle against his neck.

“Was alright…can’t have you getting smug now can we?”  
“I suppose not.”

The night wasn’t over however, as Abelas nestled himself between her legs. Her hands immediately braced themselves on his shoulders, her face showing that preparation for inevitable pain. Abelas didn’t like it, opting to switch their positions.

“Oh!” Ramia gasped as she now sat in his lap, clinging to him as he adjusted their positions.

“Go on,” Abelas whispered against her ear, directing her hand to grab his member and align it against her. “I do not want to hurt you ma’esha, go when you are ready.” Ramia moaned quietly when she rubbed the head of him along her opening, almost prolonging the inevitable plunge.

His lips attentive across her shoulders and the hands keeping her in place rubbing soothing circles into her skin were a welcome comfort as she pushed him through. Hissing at the foreign feeling and immediately lifting up to remove him. Cursing against his neck before falling into silence, annoyed at herself for what she felt was such juvenile behaviour.

“Ramia?”

Abelas was overcome by concern when he could hear her sniffling against his shoulder, more so when Ramia stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry…I’m ruining everything.”

“No you’re not,” Abelas said, his coming up to pull her face to his. “You could never ruin this.” His hand was sliding back down to circle her clit as he suckled a pulse at her neck. Getting her more worked up to take him better.

With his help Ramia attempted to take him again, taking the entirety of him in a single slide. There wasn’t so much pain as just the general feel of the unfamiliar sensation that only came from such a union. Obeying Abelas’ words when he urged her not to yet move and adjust.

Eventually Ramia got tired of waiting, pushing Abelas onto his back and rising up and down his cock. Once the initial discomfort left, it started to feel good. Very, very good.

She was in a world of her own, grinding back and forth along his length, Abelas more than happy to leave her to it. His own breathing becoming laboured, strangled moans falling loose from his throat at the feel of her tight and hot around him. Fighting the urge to thrust up inside her with abandon, an arm slung over his head. Whispering words of encouragement and praise.

It was a delightful sight after all.

“Does it feel good?” Ramia asks in breathy whisper.  
“Oh…yes…”  
“Good.”

Before Ramia could protest Abelas had their positions flipped. Her legs resting on each of his shoulders as he drove into her without a care. Their height difference was enough that Ramia was faced with his chest, her hand tracing over his chest. His heartbeat thrumming beneath the lean muscle when she peppered him with kisses. The angle hitting that spot inside her that sent her over the edge.

“Abelas! Abelas!” It was hard to speak, feelings welling up inside her wanted to come out. She had wanted this for so long, wanted him for so long and she finally had him. The happiness, the pleasure the intensity of it all overwhelming her. She wanted to say it, to tell Abelas what he was doing to her. How much she loved it, how much she loved him.  
But the words died on her lips as her mouth was agape, another release ripping through her. Her body expelling all the things her voice couldn’t deliver. Her hairs standing on end and hands look for purchase around his biceps.

Abelas released a shuddering moan as her walls squeezed around him. Pulling himself free from her, bringing her legs closed. Before Ramia could question his actions, he was lathering her calves with kisses. His cock between her thighs to stroke against her heat. Her name repeated like a mantra to bring him to his own climax.

That last thing Ramia heard and felt was his heavy pants and a sparse wetness along her belly and chest. Blushing harshly at the dishevelled state of her sentinel and his release that marked her body.

The wet cloth was cool against her heated skin as Abelas cleaned up the mess, quickly coming to lay beside her when he was done. She pushed herself against him, pulling his arms to wrap them around her and pulling the covers over them.

“That was great," Ramia giggled. "Really great,” The words mumbled against this chest, humming approvingly at the kiss on her temple and a hand playing with her hair. “Be here when I wake up…ok?”

“I do not want to be anywhere else.”

"And this wasn't too much for you was it? You're ok?"

"Mhm," Abelas hummed, too tired and too relaxed to say more than that. It had been so long since he had done anything so intimate with another, and was a good release.

Ramia was being clingy as she lay beside him, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was having Abelas beside her, as much as possible. For as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness I feel so embarrassed posting this.
> 
>  
> 
> Elvhen:
> 
> Ma'esha: Partner/lover. Lit. my person  
> Gaildahlas: The elvhen word for embrium. Similar to the english endearment ‘sweetie,’ or ‘baby.’


	10. Chapter 10 (Slightly NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just somehting short and sweet to move things along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen used:
> 
> fenor: dear/beloved  
> sathan: Please  
> dirtha’em: talk to me

Ramia woke up to sheets covering her. She was still bare beneath, that much was obvious when she raised up on her elbows and rubbed at tired eyes, her skin raising in goose bumps with the sudden exposure to the open air. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she realised Abelas was not beside her as she had hoped to wake up to.

Her quickest response was to feel sad and foolish, but as she looked towards the end of the room he was there. Sitting at the end of the bed with his back to her, silent and still as stone. She wanted to call out to him, but she saw him put his head in his hand and a heavy sigh fall past his lips.

His entire body language screamed misery to her.

She tried to ignore the dull ache between her legs as she crawled over to him, hoping not to disturb him. But his ear twitched at the sound of the sheets twisting about, barely turning to look at her.

“Go back to sleep fenor.”

“You’re upset.” She said. Declared it.

“It will pass.”

Abelas’ shoulders jerked slightly at the feel of her pressing against his back, hands holding onto his shoulders and her cheek pressed against him. Her thumb rubbing back and forth across the skin, comforting but hurting him both.

Ramia’s elvhen was rubbish at best, but she felt hearing his mother tongue would be helpful for him. If to at least ease him into confiding his troubles to her.

“Sathan Abelas, dirtha’em.”

Her elvhen was so broken, at any other time she would shrink into herself at the embarrassment of her attempt. Abelas closed a hand around one of her wrists, his eyes shutting as he exhaled harsh through his nose.

“I’m not going let you sit here on your own like this. You don’t have to pretend you’re ok when you’re not,” she pressed her lips against his temple. “It’s still bothering you isn’t it? Defecting.”

“There were only a handful of us left after re-awakening after Uthenera,” Ramia assumed he meant the temple where he met her mother all those years ago, silently letting him continue. “We had no reason to remain once the well was gone and nothing left to protect, we wandered for a time. Undirected…lost.”

Abelas’ heart felt heavy as he relayed his time between his awakening and his meeting with Solas. The words hard to form, but the woman beside him remaining silent and tentative helped ease the temptation to repress. To crawl back into his wall that he had built.

“When the Dread Wolf revealed his plan and asked for our help in his cause…not all of us were…agreeable.”

He felt her hold him tighter, more grateful than he could express at her continued silence.

“Needless violence and death was not the path ones following Mythal took. A few of them saw as you do. Such means of restoring Arlathan would lead the Dread Wolf astray, that it would not end at the dismantling of the veil. Mythal did not stand by destruction, and some of my fellow sentinels refused to join his cause. Solas ended a conflict before it could begin, offering a place for those who would fight and allowing the others to turn away. I sometimes still wonder as to their fate…”

Abelas scoffed to himself, looking down at his hands.

“They would mock me now most likely. A betrayer twice fold. Weak…”

“I don’t think your weak.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“I think the most they would say is ‘I told you so’,” Abelas chuckled weakly at the deepening her voice took at the last phrase. His smile small, his heart feeling just a bit lighter as he watched Ramia reach for their provisions and pull out a comb, undoing his braid and ignoring his questioning glance. Turning the sentinel’s face away so she could comb through the long white locks of hair. “You were doing what you felt at the time was the right thing to do. What your friends believed at the time is now apparent to you, and you’re trying to change before it’s too late.”

Abelas let her words sink in, the feel of her tending to his hair soothing and doing good for his mood. He leaned back till he was laying across the bed, Ramia looking over him. His heart filling with warmth at the sight of her, at having her be so caring towards him. So foreign but so welcomed.

Ramia leaned down to kiss him, a hand resting against his heart as she brushed away strands of hair from his face.

“It is strange how much has happened in such a small amount of time.” Abelas remarked, brows furrowing as Ramia burst into a small fit of giggles.

“Short for you maybe, just over two years is quite a long time for me.”

“Ah, yes. I almost forget you are mortal,” Another rush of melancholy came over him. “Unfortunately…”

“Explains why your ass is so slow,” Ramia jested, attempting to lighten the mood and stop his mind going down such thoughts. “We can’t do anything about that.”

“No we can’t, perhaps if we succeed…keeping the veil up will…”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Ramia, at what the veil’s existence would do to the immortality of ancient elves like Abelas. Another of so many reasons for Solas’ motivations perhaps. She could see it in his posture that the topic was an uncomfortable one, understandably.

“Whatever happens you don’t have to go through it alone.”  
“I know.”  
“I mean it.”  
“…Thank you fenor.”

Ramia smiled again, rubbing her hand up and down his chest.

“How do go about life the way you do?”  
“Hmm?”

“You seem so utterly sure of everything. You take meagre moments to make decisions on things with such certainty. I am unsure whether to envy you or pity you.”

Ramia pressed her lips together, the look almost comical in conjuncture with the shrug of her shoulders.

“Your guess is as good as mine Abelas.”  
“Do you even know what you are doing have the time?!”

“I’m still registering the fact that we just had sex to be honest with you,” Ramia’s eyes crinkled, amused at the small burning at the tips of Abelas’ ears at her blunt statement. Setting herself atop his lap in giggles. “Are you blushing?”

“Perhaps…is there a tempting elf sitting atop me? Nude, making unspoken, wicked suggestions with her hips?” Abelas inquired, his length twitching alert at the friction urging it to attention. His past troubles slowly leaving his mind. “So soon fenor?”

“Please…?”  
“I have not stopped you have I?"

Ramia bit at her lip, sliding him inside with a quiet sigh. Taking slow and gentle strokes, as Abelas stroked the skin of her thighs. Their love-making more quiet and tempered that their previous coupling. Despite that however, Abelas internally decided he preferred this to their last union, pulling Ramia down to hold her against him. Letting her grind against him till they both reached their peak.

Their mouths coming together before curling up in each other’s arms and falling back to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramia meets The "Terror of Llomerryn"

The days past without much incident, besides Isabella’s knowing smiles in Ramia and Abelas’ direction. It couldn’t be helped however. Ramia had become incredibly eager since they had ‘gotten to know each other better’. Which meant neither of them got much sleep.

Not that Abelas minded, especially when she would…well. She was enthusiastic, that was the most the sentinel would willingly omit to curious ears if any were to be found.  
If Fenris had heard anything, he was polite enough not to ask. That was what Ramia believed, Abelas was given a word to in private by the tattooed elf. Turns out he didn’t appreciate the consequences of waking in the middle of the night and the noises that accompanied it.

Other than that, there was nothing of note that occurred while travelling to Estwatch. But apprehension soon was high. All of them standing at the front of the ship, the docks of the Raider-controlled island visible on the horizon. 

“Right, I have some things to make clear before we get to Estwatch…” Isabella muttered.

Ramia didn’t like the sound of that, she’d already been clinging tightly to her staff in hand. Nerves and tension high at what was waiting for them there. The fact that the voices of the well still hadn’t spoken to her yet, increasing that anxiety.

She had hoped by now the well would speak to her, and if it didn’t? There was no telling how badly things at Estwatch could go. Abelas grumbled low and loud, clearly unimpressed by Isabella’s tone and expecting something bad to be omitted by the Pirate Captain. 

“They aren’t expecting us.”

“What?!” Ramia yelled, jolting at Fenris’ hand on her shoulder. His eyes pleading with her to remain calm and let Isabella explain herself.

“These raiders aren’t people you send a letter to. While they won’t kill us outright, especially since I do have some kind of influence. We shouldn’t expect a warm welcome. I just want us all to be prepared for a bit of rough treatment.”

“And you only saw fit to tell us this when we are moments away from their island?” Abelas asked, the irritation clear in his voice. 

“Being told in advance would have been preferable, but that is not the case.” Fenris intervened. “Gear up, all of you. Won’t be long before we get there.”

Fenris got the last word, all of them heading off in different directions to prepare for their arrival. Abelas was heading straight for the cabin. Once inside he was already donning his sentinel armour, clasping pieces in place. Ramia did the same in complete silence, which unsettled Abelas. The girl usually so vocal especially in matters like this, where panic was her easiest response. When things weren’t going the way she expected them to.

When he turned to look at her properly the panic was there, in her eyes but she was keeping it in. It was strange how he had already learnt to read her body language. Became familiar with her habits and mannerisms, even more strange the concern that pulled at him when she was in such a state. How quickly he had grown attached to loud, emotional girl.

“Ramia?” Abelas called, the girl looking up at him with a frown. Shaking her head side to side, as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not letting this get the better of me,” She mumbled to herself, clenching the fabric of her cloak. Instinctually grabbing his hands when he bent down and placed them upon her knees. “I won’t. I’m done panicking over every little thing that happens.”

“This journey will be full of surprises da’lath’in.”

“I know, and I’m not going panic over every single one anymore…so fuck em.”

“Well put.” Abelas chuckled, feeling a small surge of pride in Ramia’s small but improved growth. Ramia raised her face to look at him, a small smile peering before planting a soft chaste kiss on his lips. Sighing against them.

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“Do not let yourself down da’lath’in. Do not let the world down. There are higher things at stake than my expectations.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When their ship slowly drifted into the harbour of Estwatch, there was an uncomfortable feeling in the air. Something akin to death almost, but more the risk of it. Something that made your hairs stand on end, and kept you on your toes. Waiting for a dagger in the dark, for something to strike at you.

“I was expecting…more people.” Ramia said as she stared off into the distance.

Isabella’s hand rested at the hilt of one of her daggers, staring off towards their destination as they slowly entered raider territory.

“So was I,” She sighed, aside from their own tavern, the docks of Estwatch was usually the busiest part of the island. The fact that it was pretty much deserted, did not sit well with Isabella. “Shit.”

“What?” Fenris hissed, his shoulders tensing at Isabella cursing the lone man standing at the docks. “Who is he?”

“I’d know that uniform anywhere…he works for Ianto.”  
“Who’s that?”

“He’s a slaver and murderer. That’s all you need to know,” Isabella turned to face all three of them. “We need to be very, very careful guys. Whatever you do don’t retaliate and do not get smart with them. Ianto would slit his own mother’s throat if it got him what he wanted.”

A horn bellowed, signalling their arrival to the entire island. Only a handful of men arrived to greet them, more of Ianto’s men. Isabella went down to meet them, a small amount of relief coming over Ramia as one of the scarier men seemed to recognised Isabella. He brought her hand to his lip in greeting, his eyes travelling over to where Ramia, Fenris and Abelas stood. 

Isabella motioned for them to join her, her eyes screaming for them to remain calm. The friendliness of her greeting with this man clearly a façade on both sides.

“You have new friends every time we meet mi querido.”  
“Would it not get boring otherwise?”

When Ramia finally stood by Isabella’s side, the large imposing man was giving a big bellied laughter, his eyes roving over her, sizing her up. It made her feel smaller than she already was. She remembered learning that raiders were heavily involved in the slave trade, which only made his gaze all the more uncomfortable for her.

The man gave a low hum as he looked over at all three armoured elves, before turning back to Isabella. 

“Quite a large number of you…”  
“Yes well, I am simply a guide this one instance. It’s her who may need your assistance.”

The attention turned to Ramia, and now her purpose for being here was finally coming to a head. Ramia took in a deep breath before stepping forward.

“Who’s in charge?” She shyly inquired.

The raider burst into a fit of laughter, making Ramia’s heart sink. Feeling foolish and childish for what might have been a stupid question to ask.

“Everyone is their own man across the Waking Sea darling,” He boasted, large arms slathered in tattoos crossed over his chest. “You will have to be much more specific on who it is you are looking for.”

“Then take to whoever no one wants to fuck with here.” Ramia all but growled, uninterested in being talked down to. Even Fenris made a grip on her elbow to curb her tone with the man.

The raider curled his lips, considering on dealing with her rudeness himself or leave it to his captain. Instead he turned back towards the tavern, expecting them to follow. They all kept a fair amount of space as they walked along. An armoured hand coming to rest against Ramia’s lower back which made her flinch, before she realised it was only Abelas. He was unhappy, that much was clear. By the look in his eye it was her he was upset with.

“Do not press your luck Ramia, he looked like he wanted to slit your throat for your words.”  
“I’m not going to be spoken to like that.” 

“You do not hold power here Ramia,” Abelas warned with a squeeze at her hip. “Control your temper or everything we have done, everything your mother has done has been for nothing.”

“He is right,” Fenris added, his agreement bringing an embarrassed flush to Ramia’s cheeks. “Don’t make that look. All hope isn’t lost…yet.”

“I believe there is only room for one pessimist amongst us,” Abelas replied to Fenris. 

“I think you’re more suited to dour glaring. Leave the pessimism to me old man.”

The brief joking banter was needed before entering the tavern. The place bursting with noise, excitement and violence. All four of them becoming all the more nervous when they are escorted to a private room. And Abelas and Fenris are asked to wait outside. 

“Your friends look very dangerous Isabella; you understand Ianto’s caution.” The raider and escort explained, daring the two elves to make a fuss. 

Ramia placed a gentle hand on Abelas’ wrist when she felt the tingle of his magic against her. She didn’t like this anymore than he did, and the idea of dealing with Ianto without him at her side terrified her. It was evident in the shakiness to her voice.

“It’s fine Abelas. Ma’dhrua.” Ramia told him, wanting the sentinel to trust in her abilities to solve this without him. He relented, only when a knife was held to his throat. The raider, poising it at his neck repelling him from the room and Ramia both. Fenris’ own hand coming to pull the man away.

The uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Abelas’ belly as Ramia and Isabella disappeared inside the private room. Unappreciative of Fenris’ readiness to let the two go so readily.

“Isabella is with her, she won’t let anything happen to her.”  
“What makes you so sure of that? These are her ilk are they not?”  
“Isabella has a soft spot for young girls like Ramia. She’ll keep her safe.”

The doors were slammed shut behind them, two guards stood by the door. Staring straight ahead and paying no mind to Ramia or Isabella. The doors were thick, and the rowdiness of the tavern was a muffled sound in the distance. Food decorated an elongated table to Ramia’s right, and before them with a plate full of fruit was who she could only suspect was Ianto. 

“Isabella.” Ianto said, the sound coming out like a sigh one would make when aching bones sunk into a hot bath. His arms stretching out wide as he rose from his seat. 

He was a man who looked to be middle aged, his beard and the sides of his hair with traces of silver that gave such knowledge away. Despite his lounging and extravagant attire there was the tell-tale sign of armour underneath, both for protection and to warn of his battle prowess. A scar across his eye was prominent but somehow had not impaired his vision, and he had a grin that made Ramia feel dirty. 

She didn’t like him, or this situation one bit.

Ramia wasn’t even sure how Isabella mustered up the strength to smile at him let alone exchange a greeting in the form of a kiss to each cheek. But one look at their faces showed this was a façade, that neither Ianto nor Isabella could stand the sight of each other.

“My Isabella, it has been much too long. Decided you had enough of gallivanting across the ocean?”

“You know I can’t stand to stay on dry land for long Ianto.”

Ianto chuckled, his mirth not shared with any of the other raiders in the room. All of them with hard eyes and tense jaws just aching for a fight. Isabella took notice of the men as well.

“Hired thugs Ianto? Where are your usual lot?”

“Drinking and bedding any whore they can get their hands on. We have spent many months at sea, it can make a man hungry for many things,” Ianto’s eyes turned on Ramia, who had been sitting still near the door. Her shoulders tensing at grabbing the Raider leader’s attention. “But I have a feeling you are here for something else hmm?”

Ianto had reclined back on his seat, a leg thrown over one of the armrests and he watched Ramia approach. 

“Come my dear speak up! What brings a marcher elf so far away from home?” Ianto asks as he beckons her over. Eyes raking over her, making Ramia feel bare and awkward. Like he was sizing her up.

“This is-”  
“Let her speak my dear Isabella. She would dare charge into Estwatch and expect our favour?” Ianto’s eyes took on a dark gleam, his grin twisting into a sneer. “Let the Inquisitor’s little harlot speak for herself.”

Now both Isabella and Ramia knew why Fenris and Abelas were left outside. Why the tension was thick in the air and Ianto had suddenly become much less amused by their presence. He and everyone on this island knew exactly who she was, and it seemed her mother was not seen in high regard amongst the Armada. That Ramia would come unannounced with demands did not look well on her and could only ignite their anger towards her and what she represented.

“I am well aware of who you are, and what the leader of your kind plans to do. Most of us are well aware of this ‘Fen’harel’ and what he plans.”

So it was what she had feared, everyone suspected elves of being agents of Fen’harel. 

“Not everyone stands with the Dread Wolf!” Ramia interjected, a sword at her throat after doing so. The back of a hand swiping across her face in reply. Isabella could do nothing as a guard twice her size held her in place.

Ianto cracked his wrist after hitting Ramia across the face. Ramia refused to raise a hand to her cheek and appear weak. Hands balled into fists at her sides as she looked back up at the Raider captain.

“And how am I to know this is true? How do we not know he sends you to take care of those who control northern waters? It would be useful indeed to have the Raiders of the Waking Sea under his thumb no?”

While it was true that most elves had fled to Solas’ banner when the call to arms came. That it became hard to tell friend from foe as the south of Thedas slowly came more and more into Solas control, the eluvian network at his disposal making it almost impossible to get the better of him. The humans knew war was coming, that the threat was felt this far north did not come up as a possibility for Ramia. But here she was, having to prove her innocence to men who probably didn’t care whether she was being truthful or lying.  
If Ramia wanted to get the Armada on her side, she would have to play to their greed and need to stay alive. Just as Isabella said.

“Solas is my enemy as well as yours, he sees no place for you in the world he wants to restore nor us elves who aren’t immortal like him. But there is something here, in Estwatch that he wants,” Ramia steadied her breathing, trying her best to ignore the small trickle of blood that now trailed down her neck from the sword at her throat. “I want it. Whatever it is that is here, he will come for it. Whatever Fen’harel is he is as powerful as a god. You won’t stand a chance if he comes.”

“A good point corazon.”  
“Then please co-operate with me!”

Ianto clicked his teeth, thinking on their exchange. With a click of his fingers, the sword was gone from her throat and she was forcibly pushed into a seat next to Isabella. The Raider captain exchanging words in antivan with his men. 

Back he was in his seat, twirling a dagger in his fingers, glaring at both women before him.

“I am no fool girl, and while I am willing to hear what it is you have to say and do here. I do not hold entire authority in Estwatch.”

On cue, the doors leading to the tavern burst open and several men entered. All distinctive and seemingly irritated from being taken away from their festivities. All these men seemed to hold authority as they took seats, questioning glances directed at Ianto as well as herself.

“You have all eyes and ears of The Felicisma Armada on you girl. Now tell us what it is you are here for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma’dhrua: Believe/have faith in me  
> mi querido: My dear  
> corazon: sweetheart
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the wait guys! I got a bit distracted by prompts and babysitting but i hope you guys like the new chapter!
> 
> As usual you can find me here: mindtrove.tumblr.com
> 
> Hoping to go back to weekly updates!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken awhile to get out and i'm not 100% happy with it.
> 
> But i've been in a bit of a slump and it is longer than my usual chapters so i'll give myself credit on that lol

“What is the meaning of this Ianto?”  
“Yeah, we’ve got better things to do then have a mother’s meeting!”  
“Who let the fucking knife-ears dock? You trying to get us all killed?!”

There were many outcries along those lines by all the raider captains that Ramia endured. Some annoyed at being taken away from their festivities. Others angry that elves had been allowed into Estwatch. Those voices were louder and more worrying for Ramia, especially with the cutthroat glares that came along with them.

Things were always sour between elves and humans, but with the Inquisitor’s disappearance over a year ago those relations only worsened. The only representative of elves not aligned with Fen’harel was gone, the ability to keep chaos under control was lost from Ramia’s grip. Contacting Briala was impossible, wherever she had disappeared with the last of her people. So any elvhen opposition left either joined Solas or slipped into darkness. Any elf foolish enough to stay behind exposed to human suspicion and violence.

The humans knew war was coming, there was no room for trust for any with pointed ears.

At those particular insults Isabella’s hand was immediately around her shoulder, and Ramia couldn’t be more grateful for the contact. She quickly became an anchor against the waves of anger, opposition and slurs being thrown at her. It also helped that Isabella seemed unaffected by their squawking, it must have been nothing new to the pirate.  
Which was good because Ramia’s heart was hammering faster and harder by the minute.

“Settle down boys,” Isabella spoke with calm grace, sending a smile Ramia’s way and rolling her eyes. “Men…”

Ramia hung her head low when the captains continued to complain and speak over each other. Ianto trying his utmost to calm them down but failing. His own temper fraying as yelling became argument, and arguments became personal insults.

Even weapons started being drawn.

“Enough.” A voice boomed. The authority and strength in it silencing all in the room. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to a man at Ianto’s right, the only captain in the room who remained silent throughout the outrageous display put on. Ramia remembered, because he was the only man in the room whose gaze she felt the hardest. His eyes trained on her, silent and watching.

Similar to Ianto he was nearing his fifties, although the grey in his hair was less forgiving. He had a face full of stubble and scars, but it didn’t seem to hinder him. If the lady in his lap was any indication. 

“Priore?”

The solemn captain raised a cigar to his lips, the lady sat across his lap lighting it for him. Smiling when he gave her a pat on her generous hip. Smoke slithered out through his nostrils as he scanned all the captains in the room. Daring one of them to cut in before he would speak. 

“Clucking and screaming like banshees…” He groused. “Wanting an explanation but won’t shut your mouths to hear one.” 

The accent was faded but Ramia could hear the Orlesian, mostly likely not so strong from living up north for so long. Ramia was about to speak, but Priore cleared his throat.

“Be quiet rabbit, I’ll get to you in a minute.” 

With so much casualness and indifference, Priore raised a small crossbow and shot Ianto in the knee. The unexpected attack pulling a gasp out of Ramia and an agonising scream from Ianto. The man clutching his punctured leg and swearing in colourful antivan.

“That’s what you get for spreading misinformation,” Priore turned his gaze to the two women in front of him. “Don’t know who told you he’s in charge but- Shut him up will you?!” One of Ianto’s men quickly jumped to action, helping his captain to his feet and escorting him out of the room.

“Acting like you’ve never been fucking shot before.”

After Priore’s display no one else in the room dared to speak, even Ramia had kept her head low and her hands fisted atop her knees. Isabella’s hand around her shoulder tightening at the girl’s shaking. The pirate looking up at Priore with irritation.

“Was that really necessary? Honestly, if she was really trouble would she be knocking on the front door? She’s no threat to anyone here Priore.”

“Ah but that is where you are wrong Isabella. Estwatch, is ours. This island, is ours. And if this little rabbit’s presence brings unwanted company? Then yes, this does involve us. And it most certainly does make her dangerous.”

When it seemed the discussion would truly start, Priore whispered into the ear of the woman in his lap, giving her ass a slap as she left to do whatever he had ordered. He then waved a hand in Ramia’s direction, which she then took as a sign for her to finally explain why she was here.

It went mostly without a fuss or any interruptions, a grunt here and ‘ah’ there. Her voice slightly wobbly as she spoke, worried she herself would get an arrow to the knee if she said the wrong thing. 

“So my mother- The Inquisitor, gave me the Well of Sorrows and…”

All the men in the room went blank faced, staring with confusion. Ramia paused, heaving a large sigh.

“Elf magic.”

“Ah…” They recited like a chorus.

“How does it work then?” One of the raiders asked.

“I…don’t know…I haven’t gotten it to work…yet…”  
“What good’s elf magic if it doesn’t work?”

That set the all off again, bickering and arguing amongst themselves before Priore shut them up again.

“The point is,” Ramia continued. “There is something here, most likely below Estwatch that Fen’harel wants. It could be a weapon, more power or…something, I don’t know!” 

Ramia eyes trained on Priore, pleading with him. “But whether any of you like it or not, the leaders of every country are protecting their own borders and I’m the only one jumping from one end of Thedas to another trying to get us closer to even ground against him. This will go beyond whatever we find here…I want you all as allies.”

Even Isabella had to turned as stare shocked at Ramia words, like the girl had gone mad. But the girl looked the woman square in the face, pleading with her to trust her.  
She needed her to, the chorus of laughter building around her making her feel stupid. Ridiculous.

Her offer even amused Priore who grinned at her, tapping his cigar of its ash and rolling it between thumb and index finger. Trying to read some ulterior motive from her, to gauge any clues that she might be lying, or out of her depth. 

“Allies you say?”

“Yes, Fereldan and Orlais are the most vulnerable right now…I think it’s only a matter of time before he gains the upper hand,” Ramia didn’t want to believe it but it was true. Even Skyhold belonged to Solas once again. “If you ally with me and keep control of the seas, any opposition across waters would benefit us all. Especially if Nevarra and The Free Marches is our only defence on land when I eventually reach Tevinter.”

“You have been planning this for a long time.”  
“Not long enough…or well enough.”

Ramia stood from her seat, walking over to Priore hands balled into fists at her side to hide her fear.

“You all need to put aside self-serving goals; The Dread Wolf doesn’t care for material wealth as you do. None of that will mean anything with the world coming to an end.”

Priore sighed. The man listened, but it was clear from his tone that he did not want to hear this. No one wanted to hear than the world was ending, regardless of how long they had to fight against the tide. He looked at the captains around him, similar looks on their faces to the information presented to them. 

Regardless of his clear authority amongst them, the Felicisima Armada still stood by their own code of honour when it suited them. He would not agree to aid unless there was consensus among his peers. To reiterate the point, Priore Stuck his hand inside his coat pocket. Before Isabella and Ramia could expect the worst, he pulled out a single gold coin holding it up for all to see before placing it on the table between himself and Ramia. 

The coin was old. Very old, and worn. It wasn’t a sovereign like the currency used today.

Slowly, one by one each captain stepped forward. Each of them pulling out identical looking coins and placing it beside the others. The symbolism was clear, a declaration and promise of their aid, that they would work together against a common cause or in this case, an enemy.

Ramia looked from Priore, across each captain before landing on Isabella. The woman’s grin conforming what she had hoped. The large beaming smile on Ramia’s face roused a chuckle out of Priore. The captain standing to his feet along with his fellow raiders.

“We’ll throw our lot in with you rabb-”  
“Ramia,” She cut in, clearing her throat and giving the old man a sweetly forced smile. “Ramia Lavellan, if you’d please.”

“Very well little madam,” Priore gave a mocking bow to her, his grin slowly fading into irritated confusion when he looked at the pile of coins on the table. “Who didn’t toss in?!” He yelled, everyone’s eyes turning to the far corner of the room where a sleeping captain sat. Arms folded and moustache fluttering with his snoring. 

“Maker’s tits Abner. You fat lazy oaf! Wake up!” 

The sleeping captain’s eyes opened briefly as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, his moustache wiggling side to side as he looked around the room to the coins piled on the table. Without even questioning, he fished out his own coin and chucked it in with the others.

Priore did not appreciate the large man’s nonchalance, but an idea formed in his head and a smile stretched across his face. Turning back towards Isabella and Ramia.

“Abner will take care of you and your friends tonight ladies. Drinks on his tab, and his rooms for your leisure,” Priore was leaving the room, stopping before Ramia to lift her chin up with a finger. “We’ll discuss later about this ‘mystery’ beneath Estwatch you want so bad yes?”

“Yes.” Ramia agreed before letting Isabella lead her out the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tavern was loud. 

Too loud for Abelas, Fenris spent so many years in the Hanged Man and was accustomed to the type of ruckus that could only be found in busy taverns. Although having two large muscled men ready to pound them into the floorboards at a moment’s notice was new. That he could feel uneasy about along with Abelas.

Without a word however, the two men left. Both were cautious until they saw Isabella and Ramia walking towards them. From the grin on Isabella’s face they could assume everything was alright. That they hadn’t failed.

“Well…?” Fenris asked the two women. Isabella grabs Ramia’s face a plants a large kiss on her cheek, knocking the girl out of her thoughts and almost lose balance. 

“It went great! Almost thought he’d shoot an arrow through your eye by the time you’d finished!” Ramia gave a shaky giggle as she sat between Fenris and Abelas. No table had been available, so all four of them sat by the bar, glad that everyone was either too drunk or too scared of men like Priore to send any dirty looks their way.

Isabella was busy trying to get the barkeeper’s attention while Fenris and Abelas prodded Ramia for answers as to what happened in Ianto’s private suite. Ramia wanted to give them an answer, but all she could do was slam her head against the bar surface. Fenris gave her an encouraging pat on her shoulder.

“It’s over now, you got us in so we can relax… temporarily at least,” Fenris spoke in hushed tones, not really wanting their conversation to be heard by anyone close enough. 

Fenris chuckled lightly as the girl mumbled against the table, turning his head towards Abelas. “Is she always either ignorantly relaxed or stressed beyond reason?”

The question brought a smile out of the sentinel, his hand reaching over to rub the back of her neck. Ramia’s immediate instinct to bend and rest her head on his lap and grumbled more incoherent words against it. Abelas’ other hand cradling his chin as he leaned against the bar table and stared down at Ramia fondly.

“Yes.”

Ramia rose abruptly from his lap, slamming her hands on the table and exhaling loud and long.

“Ok I’m good.”  
“You sure?” Fenris asked.  
“Yup.”

“Good,” Isabella said as she pushed a large tankard in front of the girl, laughing as Ramia wrinkled at the smell. “It’s alcohol sweet, it’s not supposed to smell nice.”  
Ramia only raised her eyebrows before downing the entire thing in one sitting, all three companions staring both in concern and mild amazement. Abelas pursed his lips as he pushed the now empty tankard from her, clearly not amused by whatever Ramia was up to.

“Was that necessary fenor?”  
“Yes, I was thirsty.”  
“There’s a jug of water right there.”  
“Yeah but it’s not giggle water is it?”

“Giggle water?” Fenris cut in, a quiet snort escaping him as he took a sensible sip of his beverage. “There’s one I haven’t heard yet.”

“Well, drinking gives me giggles.”  
“And I’m sure we’ll see than soon enough if you keep that up.” Abelas muttered, a particular loud noise from behind them jolting him and making him scowl. Ramia caught the look before he could mask it.

“You ever been in a tavern before?”  
“No.”

“Were we too fancy for taverns in that elvhen utopia some of you are so hell-bent on getting back?” Fenris butt in, side-eyeing the sentinel as he took a long sip of his beer. Abelas reluctantly accepted the wine placed in front of him, grateful at least to have not been given whatever Ramia or Fenris were drinking. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Abelas said as he sipped the wine, more pleasant than he expected it to be. “My life before waking to this world was spent in Mythal’s temple.”

“You had to have done other things.” Ramia jumped in, Abelas could see the curiosity in her eyes to learn more about him. Perhaps her desire and love for him clouded her perceptions and saw someone worldly. He chuckled lightly to himself at that.

“I’m afraid I am more boring than you might be portraying me da’lath’in.”

All three of them stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate and reveal more information of himself. He wasn’t so sure at first, but the knowledge seemed harmless enough to divulge to Fenris and Isabella.

“My mother and father were in Mythal’s service as I am…was,” He buried the feelings that wished to surface as his mind drifted to his goddess. “There was a war in my time that they died fighting in, I was still a babe at the time that I was given to the priests.”

“So you were raised to be a priest then? Like the ones you showed me, when we slept?”  
“Yes. While I am…was a sentinel, my life still did not take me anywhere far. Anything I did see beyond the temple walls was short lived.”

Abelas was almost taken aback at how intently Ramia was staring at him, it wasn’t lost on him that she clearly wished for him to elaborate. To know more. It did not come as a surprise, a lot of the last few nights on Isabella’s ship were spent, foreheads pressed against each other as Ramia laid bare her own childhood, and life before they met. The knowledge was held close to her heart, and he treasured and honoured every tale she allowed to slip past her lips. Most of the information either painful or difficult to lay bare. A growing reminder of his position in her life.

He wanted to tell her more about him. Tales of times with other initiates to become sentinels. Abelas remembered a particular memory. When he and a few other initiates came of age, and inebriated beyond reason had ran naked as the day they were born through the gardens. The monks and priests furious and embarrassed.

He had many tales to tell, that wasn’t within doubt. But this tavern among strangers wasn’t where he wanted it to be. Any memories of his life before this strange land seemed precious and sacred, and he clung to them even as he pledged himself to save this world.

“You ok?” Ramia whispered, Abelas’ silence started to worry her as she held onto his hand again. A gentle squeeze pulling him back into the present.  
“This is all new isn’t it?” Isabella asked as she pointed at the two and grinning from ear to ear. Fenris looking less amused as he continued to nurse his drink.  
“It’s new alright…” Fenris answered.

“Huh?” 

“It’s nothing Ramia, they simply wish to tease you,” Abelas used the words as comfort but Ramia did not understand what she needed comforting from. 

“Teasing about what?”

“Well it’s not really teasing is it?” Isabella added as she looked over at Abelas and ignoring his warning glare. “Oh don’t give me that look, you clearly know what you’re doing. Or the girl’s just incredibly sweet on you and likes putting on a show.”

“I’m so confused right now…” 

Abelas grumbled something in elvhen before putting his wine in Ramia hands and rising from his seat. 

“If you’re both planning to allow her to drink herself into a stupor, make sure she gets back to our room in one piece.” Abelas made his farewells and left in an attempt to find their lodgings for the night. Ignoring Isabella’s protests.

“Spoil-sport!” Isabella barked as Abelas walked away and disappeared up the steps. Grabbing her drink and taking the now empty seat beside Ramia. The girl now finishing Abelas’ wine and dropping the bottle down unceremoniously. A dopey smile across her features when she noticed Isabella’s presence beside her.

“I’m still confused.”  
“You’re loud,” Isabella explained. “In bed…sweetheart. You’re very loud.”  
“Oh…Oh! You’ve got to be joke- You heard me?!”  
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”  
“Why didn’t anyone tell me…how loud? How loud were we?”

“It’s just you,” Fenris offered the knowledge as he stared ahead, not really wanting to look her in the eye. The beer making the situation much more amusing than he would probably find it given that he did not want to think about Abelas in bed. “If both you of were loud I’d probably never get any sleep.”

Ramia was more than happy to chug another drink put in front of her. Eventually, as the drinks were had and conversation flowed from topic to topic, things took a turn back to the events of the last couple of years. Mostly the events at Arlathan Forest, which brought them back onto the topic of Abelas. Who was still a mystery to Ramia’s two new comrades.

“Ramia, you’re quite the spitfire.”  
“Thanks.”  
“How’d you get smitten by that sourpuss?” Isabella asked as she ordered another round.

“Sourpuss isn’t really the word I would use to describe him…” Fenris remarked, slight disdain noted in his tone.

“Don’t listen to Fenris, him and Abelas have their own little ‘thing’ going on.”

“What?” Ramia glared daggers at Fenris, lifting a hand only to nearly fall out of her seat. The only reason her face hadn’t hit the floor being Fenris’ knee-jerk reaction to catch her.  
“Not that kind of thing darling, I mean more...”  
“Man stuff?”  
“Yes, probably best to leave it like that.”  
“I do not have ‘man stuff’ with that ancient tit.”

“Fenris!” Isabella yelled. Her attention on Ramia, who seemed more preoccupied with the tattoos along Fenris’ forearm. Her head lifted and a grin spread long across her face.

“He is an ancient tit,” Ramia giggled, cheeks going flush at the thought of her broody sentinel. “But he’s my ancient tit.”  
“That was…almost romantic.”  
“Yeah…tell more about these.” Ramia asked as she continued to trail fingers across the marks along Fenris’ skin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abelas rummaged through his and Ramia’s shared provisions to fish out her hair comb. He knew she was fussy about it but he could probably get away with giving her a blank look, she wouldn’t really do anything about it. 

It worried him how much she cared for him, but from their conversations to better understand and know each other it started making sense. The loss of her clan from a young age, any friends she did have wiped out and the burden of being the Inquisitor’s daughter did not bring many opportunities to make friends. Then as soon as her sister was born, responsibilities thrust upon her made it even more difficult to lead any semblance of a normal life.

It brought him comfort to know with each conversation, each night spent together his fondness for her grew. His anxiety towards his recent decisions feeling more and more distant as she spoke of this word and the people in it she did care for. But at times like this, when he was alone with his own thoughts, those doubts came back.

And there was still room for more to worry and think on, like their relationship. It had moved so fast, no time to reflect and think over what he was doing as they moved from one task to another.

“Abelasss.” 

Abelas eyes darted to the source of the noise, shoulders lowering with ease as he saw it to simply be Ramia. Her cheeks in blushed fully as she used the door to support her weight, mentally sighing at how much she must have had since he left her alone with Isabella and Fenris at the bar.

“Had your fun?”  
“Yup,” Ramia drawled. “Why didn’t you stay?”

She was waddling over to him as she asked, crawling onto their shared bed for the night. A small thing, they’d be a tangle of limbs more out of necessity than anything else.

“I felt uncomfortable, I am unused to such environments.”  
“I’m sorry…”

Abelas laughed, a small quiet breath that she could barely hear. When he looked at her she had her eyes trained on him. Eyes still large and cheeks red from the drink but her intuition seemed to hone in on him and his unease he could not hide. At least not to her it seemed. 

“You’re upset again…”  
“You are…strangely perceptive Ramia. I’d blame it on the drink but this wouldn’t be the first time.”

He had meant it in jest, a remark to ease the mood but was met with her intense stare. She still staggered slightly as she reached for the bag and shuffled through it. Mumbling and muttering to herself as she struggled in her search. Abelas watching curiously, eyebrows rising when she found what she wanted but paused. As if she was contemplating this act, until her eyes hardened and she pulled something out.

She sat cross-legged on the bed with a wolf-jaw bone cradled in her hands. A strange thing for her to have in his opinion.

“That is a jaw-bone.”

“Yeah…it belonged to Solas,” when she was meant with silence, Ramia looked up to see his questioning glance. “When I was a lot younger, when my mother defeated Corypheus. Solas gave this to me, he was never without it the whole time I had known him back then. It was all I had to remember him by when he left.”

Ramia’s hands traced over the aged bone, memories of lessons and happier times filling her head and making her heart feel heavy.

“I never had a father…and he was the closest thing to one I had, short lived as it was. I felt nothing like that with any from my clan. No one who cared or tried.”  
“Ramia…”

“I know it’s bad I still have this. And I should get rid of it…” Ramia stared up at Abelas with tears brimming the corners of her eyes. “But I get it…sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing a lot. If I should have gone through the eluvian with him at June’s temple. I would at least be with my family…that maybe he is right and he can save us.”

“Ramia, you are doing what is right.”  
“But I’ve dragged you with me...”

Abelas could see the guilt on her face now, and wondered how long she had been feeling this burden. When he didn’t answer for a while she had resigned to crying, it was silent but he could hear it, feel it. His hands were cupping her face to make her look at him.

“My actions are my own Ramia. I saw where Solas’ path would end and wanted no part in it,” He was jerking her to look at him when her eyes turned downwards. “I have chosen this path, it will do us no good doubting and feeling guilt for each other. We have both taken a difficult path, but this was our choice.” 

It would do neither of them any good. While Abelas was still making sense of his feelings for Ramia, there was no doubt that the destruction that would unfold from tearing down the veil was something he could not live with. Knowing all those loyal elves that followed the Dread Wolf would be obliterated, dying for a world they believed was waiting for them…

“Do not doubt yourself anymore Ramia.”  
“Ok…I’ll try…”  
“Will drunk Ramia come back now?”

“Hah, I dunno…that conversation really sobered me up,” Ramia was rubbing at her eyes when she came to notice a bottle by the end of the bed. “…wait…is that wine?”

“Ramia don’t…”

“You’re the one telling me to be drunk again.”  
“Go back to drunk, not become more drunk.”

Ramia was ignoring his protest and downing half empty bottle, and it wasn’t long before she was a giggling mess again. Removing less of her clothes for better comfort and then crawling into Abelas’ lap. 

“I’m feeling kind of restless Abelas.” Ramia mumbled as she pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“No.”

“Come on…” Before Ramia had a chance to initiate any inappropriate contact her head was pushed against a pillow, a low and tired mewl escaping her as she sank further into the bed. Curling up into a ball. “This bed is so comfy…”

“It is, so sleep.” Abelas ordered as he joined her, pressing against her back and pulling the blankets over them. Gladdened to hear her loud and long yawn as she curled up and pressed back into him.

“How we’ll we know where to look Abelas? The well still hasn’t spoken to me yet…”  
“We will find what we are looking for, sleep for now.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeeeeeeaaaaaaalllllllllllly sorry for how long this chapter took!
> 
> I've been in a bit of a slump, i'm finding myself really trying to force this chapter out and I think it's a sign I need to slow down a bit, maybe do some prompts and take a break from this story a bit.
> 
> You can find me here: Mindtrove.tumblr.com 
> 
> I'm most active on my tumblr and you can bug me or somethin i dunno lol
> 
> I'll try to get back into Odyssey asap.
> 
> On the plus side this chapter's twice as long as my usual ones lol

Ramia was at Skyhold again, except this time the fade had manifested her in her room. Not the one once belonging to her mother, but the one that had been given to her when she had first settled in Skyhold and no longer needed to sleep at her mother’s side.

_“Here.” Ramia pointed with a tiny finger at the room, already pulling the junk that had cluttered inside._

_“Alright,” Moro simply replied, happy to see the old Ramia slowly coming back. Josephine mumbled under her breath, coming to face Moro with uncertainty in her eyes._

_“It is a closest Inquisitor…You will barely be able to fit anything more than a bed in there.”_

_Moro rested a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder._

_“My aravel back with Clan Lavellan was very small, me and Ramia had many possessions. There was barely any room.” Moro explained with mirth in her eyes. It did not surprise her that Ramia would want a room to emulate that tightness of that space. Josephine seemed content not to push further, nodding to a servant besides her._

_“I will make arrangements Inquisitor.”_

The room was just as she had left it, baubles and trinkets littered every in-built shelf and surface. Most of them from Solas. She remembered running to the rotunda and bouncing on the heels of her feet as her hahren would grin and fetch whatever oddity he had found for her during his travels by her mother’s side. Ramia was thirteen at the time but she felt even younger by the excitement that brightened her features every time Solas had something for her. Most of the items harmless magical things that were not needed by the inquisition.

“Why did you have to go and ruin everything…” She whispered to no one.

“I do not do it gladly da’len.”

Ramia jumped at his voice, Solas standing by the room’s entrance. His face more grief stricken and distraught than when she had last saw him.

“Solas.”

Solas scoffed softly, eyes downcast and a smile devoid of any true levity etched across his face.

“No more hahren? Well…I suppose it is better than Fen’harel…or Dread Wolf,” His eyes traced every inch of her like he was searching for wounds, or information he felt he could divulge by simply looking at her. “You are unharmed? Surprising…Estwatch is no place for you to be.”

“I’m fine,” She blurted, defensively so that she worried he wouldn’t believe her. Ramia recomposed herself, chin held high. “I can take care of myself.”

“One small trip across the ocean proves nothing Ramia. You do not understand the foolishness with which you are conducting yourself. The danger you are putting yourself in.”

Ramia chuckled, rolling her eyes and a hand placed on her hip. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be having. It was bad enough that he was now her enemy, but to coddle and underestimate her was not something Ramia appreciated.

“Y’know I get it; you’re probably pissed I stole your general. And from what I’m guessing, you and mother haven’t been playing happy family. But I’m not a moron _Solas,”_ Ramia could tell her words hurt him, her title of endearment towards him dead and his name spilling forth more as a barb and out of spite. But she didn’t care. “I knew taking the well of sorrows was dangerous. I knew taking over my mother’s work, was dangerous. I know whatever is here, in Estwatch is…wait for it… _dangerous_.”

Solas watched her, his heart heavier and heavier as she spoke with what he felt was so much ignorance. Her smart attitude only furthering his suspicious of her lack of understanding to anything going on.

“I knew standing up to you would be difficult, that maybe I might not survive saying my world…you could kill me now if you wanted…” She added, her hand fiddled together in front of her. Almost as if she was ready to protect herself.

“No!” Solas yelled, rushing to her side and pulling her close. His lips pressed harshly atop her head as he held her. Repeating himself. “I would never. Not here…not anywhere.”

She wanted to believe that, Ramia wanted to so badly. That she was beyond the reach of Solas’ magic and power. But such things would not last, they were in complete opposite sides. The tight embrace he held her in told her he hated this, she wasn’t completely blind. This turn of events hurt him, killed him more than she could probably imagine. Ramia was not blind to the many times he has tried to turn her from death’s doorstep.

“That won’t be a choice for long Solas.”

It surprised her how real the fade could feel; how solid his form was as he held her. How much more tired he looked. Her face was buried against him until she could feel his body shaking, moving to gaze up at him and her eyes widening at the distress bleeding into his eyes and posture.

Solas didn’t want to kill her, the very idea of it sickened him. That much was obvious, but not enough to dissuade her from her cause.

“ _Nuvenan na amahn da’len._ Please come back to Skyhold,” Solas pleaded, pushing hair from her face to cup her cheek. “I am bringing your sister back there…come home.”

“What about mother?”

“It is better for her to remain in the crossroads…it is hard to explain. She is also unwell, since she gave you the well.”

Ramia worried her lip between her teeth. If she could trust Solas in one thing it was to look after her mother. They were both stubbornly persistent in their feelings for one another, even if their relationship as of now was strenuous at best.

The worst thing about Solas’ manipulations was the touch of truth to them. Ramia was certain she could count on that to be true, that he would take Laisa back to Skyhold. It was her home after all, she was born and raised there and more than likely missed it terribly. But she also knew he was using this knowledge to bribe her, she missed them both with every fibre of her being. The tears threatening to fall at the corners of her eyes more than enough of an indication.

“Come home…” Ramia imitated, laughing under her breath. “Skyhold is not my home…I haven’t been home for ten years.

_Skyhold was never home. Home was an aravel that lies in ashes in the wilds of Wycome._

She was pulling his hands down, stepping away from him. Strengthening her resolve and hardening her heart as she stared him straight in the eyes. Solas seems to regard her now with disappointment, any attempts to sway her gone. His hands pulled behind him, looking at her more as an adversary as he mirrored the hardness of her expression.

“It would seem you will not be persuaded…” Solas releases a deep sigh as he turns from her. “I had hoped my arrival at Estwatch would not lead to conflict. Warn these humans you have aligned with, me and my agents will not attack if our arrival is not threatened.”

Before Ramia could speak up everything went dark. When she opened her eyes Abelas beside her awake and concerned, as if he had been waiting for her to rise from her sleep. She was up and running from one corner of the room to another, lighting a candle and pulling her armour and leathers on. Abelas was on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together.

“What did he tell you?”

“He’s coming,” Ramia said in a panic, throwing Abelas’ armour and cloak at him. “I don’t know how long it will take for him to get here but I’m not going to wait around to find out!” She had her staff in hand, twisting briefly to acknowledge the sentinel.

“Wake up Fenris and Isabella, I’m going to warn Priore and the other captains.”

Abelas gave a curt nod, donning the last pieces of his clothes as Ramia all but sprinted through the corridors of the tavern’s living quarters.

 

* * *

 

Solas’ eyes shot open, his body aching from the awkward position of sleeping in a chair alone in his private study. The hand cradling the side of his face moving to brush the sleep from his eyes and rake over his scalp.

He had hoped this could have been the last confrontation, that Ramia could put aside what seemed a foolish endeavour and return to her family, their family. The girl had seemed adamant in her decision and it was one he found hard to swallow. The idea of killing her sending his stomach churning and a stabbing pain in his heart.

His journey towards the only tower within the castle was plagued with choices to be made and any last ditch effort to get Ramia out of Estwatch. Solas could be just as stubborn.

Servants and soldiers alike were rushing back and forth within the castle as they planned to return back to the world outside these walls. An empty Skyhold waiting. They were invisible to him as he was lost in his thoughts, of both Ramia and the sentinel that had betrayed him.

Another reason for Solas to personally venture to Estwatch, Abelas’ defection had been heavy on his mind just as much as Ramia’s rebellion. He was a sensible sort Solas believed, and he would not accept the man would fall for flights of fancy like a romance with a mortal woman. There had to be more, more reasons why he would stand in the way of restoring their world.

Questions seeking answers would have to wait it seemed.

He did not bother to knock as he let himself inside Moro’s room, a chime bell swinging in a light breeze that came out of one of the many windows and a crackling fire the first sounds to ring in his ears as he entered. Moro reclined across a couch on the other side of the room with Laisa curled up in her arms. His daughter’s leg was slug over Moro’s hip as she buried her face in her mother’s chest. Even in this short span of time the girl had grown. Not unexpected, but surprising regardless and he could not tell for certain she was of his blood, elvhen. Eventually her age by mortal standards would be meaningless and she would continue to grow physically as she saw fit. It would be a topic of discussion to be had with Moro soon, he had no doubt the growth was noticed.

When his eyes met Moro’s a silent greeting was held between them. After the events that led to his current anxiety’s, Moro’s demeanour and mood had calmed. The heavier task of stopping him taken from her hands, prayer and hope becoming her only duties. And judging by Ramia’s progress, he had to wonder if her prayers may actually be having an effect.

Moro hushed softly at her daughter beside her as she played with the loose waves of hair, a soft whimper leaving the girl and taking away Solas’ assumption that the girl was asleep. He was quick to come to their side, kneeling on one knee and placing a hand to brush hair free from his daughter’s face. Misery meeting him in his child’s eyes.

“ _What is wrong my heart?_ ”

The words came out in elvhen, rolling off the tongue effortlessly. Laisa made a quick glance at her father before curling further against her mother. Her own elvhen muffled against her mother chest, Solas could only stroke the child’s hair and look up at Moro seeking some answer.

Moro looked down at Laisa with a knowing frown.

“Do you miss Ramia da’ean?” Moro asked her, a small nod was her only answer as she kissed the top of the girl’s head. The knowledge only makes Solas’ sadden further, both children in his life hurting. He could not help but blame himself, more regrets to add to his list of failures and mistakes.

“She would not have to suffer this way if you had not set your daughter against me…”

Moro hummed in agreement, using her still usable hand to reach for a glass of wine she had kept nearby. Solas’ eyebrow quirked at her lack of argument, searching her for some ulterior motive or secret. Moro only chuckled as she set the glass back down, pushing her hair back and brushing thumb and forefinger between Solas’ earlobe. An act that used to entice him once upon a time.

“Don’t take my agreement as regret love,” She smiled when he reached up to remove her hand. “Someone had to stop you.”

“I have and continue to do what needs to be done Moro.” Solas whispered, not wanting to alert the child between them.

“As am I,” She quipped back in hushed tones, Solas feeling grateful that his need not to alert their daughter on both their minds. “Doing what needs to be done seems to be the running theme these days.” They both stayed silent after that, both having learnt that neither would relent and do as the other bid.

Moro winced slightly, a hand coming to clench at her temple as she groaned in slight pain. Solas’ immediate instinct to cup her face, frustration evident in his features but no worry.

“You told me the pain had lessened…vhenan…”

“It has.”

“Removing the well was unwise…you shouldn’t have done it.”

“There are a lot of things I shouldn’t have done in my life Solas,” When Moro lifted her face she would not look at him.

“You could have died.”

“Would make your life and goals easier wouldn’t it?”

Lips pressed harshly against her own, breath pushing harshly through both their noses as Moro closed her eyes from the surprising kiss. The hand Solas had placed on her cheek holding tighter.

“Why do you both think I want this?” He whispered to himself. Apologies said softly to Moro when he saw the look in her eye. Unappreciative of the affection, he would think her devoid of anymore love for him if not for her hands trailing gently against his arm.

Solas would bring down the veil, and then she would survive and see. Then his love would understand why all of this was necessary. Until then, they stewed in this…stalemate that was their ‘relationship’.

The idea of finding another was exhausting to Moro. Losing the first man in her life death and another to his own guilt, a man she still stubbornly wished to save from himself still. So that the child in her arms would not have to grow fatherless like her sister before her.

But the wounds Solas had inflicted were still sore, and Moro could not spare anything more than these gentle gestures and touches. Solas himself seemed unsure to what was allowed, at what would set Moro off. So he never pushed until now, and he wished he hadn’t when he saw the discomfort she gave off. Even Laisa who was still curled up beside her mother lifted her face to stare at her mother perplexed.

“You’ll be going to Estwatch then?” Moro asked, and Solas had to wonder if she had involuntary spies in his ranks. That she always seemed aware of what he planned next was slightly troubling. More so that she never did anything to stop him. Perhaps she truly did intend to leave everything in her daughter’s hands.

That angered him. Ramia did not deserve such responsibilities, Moro had fought hard to avoid such things.

“Yes.”

Moro seemed to stew on that information, looking down at Laisa who watched their exchange with furrowed brows.

“Take her with you.”

Solas was surprised, to say the least. Moro was very adamant at never having her daughter too far out of reach. And to send her with him to Estwatch? To that pirate filled den of thieves?

“Absolutely not.”

“She misses her sister Solas…” Moro insisted, sighing at the look of reluctance on Solas’ face before pressing her lips against Laisa’ brow. When she looked up at him again her gaze was hard and foreboding. A look that told him if he does not give in to this request it will come back for him with a vengeance later. And so Solas listens, meets her gaze with reluctance and waits for biting words and warnings. But her voice comes out soft but stern, the way she would speak when Ramia was small and needed a guiding hand. When the need to teach was greater than the need to coddle. The words coming out in elvhen, rusty from lack of use. But he knew when she did, she wanted her words to heard. To be listened to and heeded.

“ _You’ve already hurt and disappointed two people you claim to love my heart. Do not do this to your daughter…letting her see her and say goodbye is the least you can do. You know she will never forgive you if you don’t”_

 

* * *

 

When Ramia ran out the tavern doors she was met with the sight of a few of the captains, Priore among them. All of them staring out into the horizon with trepidation. Priore turned at the sound of doors slamming open, anger flashed in eyes as he approached her. The back of his hand colliding with her face hard enough to send her stumbling to the floor.

“Get up,” Priore hissed, hauling Ramia back to her feet. “Get up you lying snake!”

Indifferent to the shock and fear on the girl’s face as his fingers dug into her arms, Priore grabbed her harder and forced her to look at a group of men injured on the floor before them. The men were in agony as they lay in a pool of their own blood. They were clearly his men, and Ramia was smart enough to know exactly who had attacked them.

“Don’t worry little rabbit, they left a message with my men. They are coming, your supposed enemy is on his way.”

Ramia’s eyes shot ever wider as she whipped her head to look at Priore. She knew Solas would be coming, but not this soon. That small bit of information she would have to keep to herself, hoping to whatever power was out there that her shock was mistaken for a lack of knowledge.

They all stood in silence for what felt like ages, no one truly knowing what needed to be done or where they should start. Ramia’s thoughts turned inward, to her reason for ripping herself from sleep in the first place.

“I need to find whatever’s here…and now,” Ramia turned to face Priore fully, reluctant to touch the man after his previous assault on her. Too worried to even look him in the eye. “Where is the oldest part of Estwatch?”

Something old would be the best place to search for anything elvhen, and Priore would every inch of this island.

Priore grumbled as his eyes turned to a tower off in the distance, Ramia followed his gaze to it. The tall, imposing building did seem old compared to everything else in Estwatch. Untouched yet seeming to be falling apart. The sounds of unrest behind her from the others unsettling her.

**_Waiting._ **

Ramia gasped softly, twisting around fast to the other men. Unsettled.

“Waiting for what?!” She asked them, only to be met with dubious looks.

“No one said anything…” Priore muttered.

Ramia scratched at her head, she had been certain she heard…something. When she looked up at the tower again she felt something pull at her. Calling her through unspoken words the longer she stared at that tower. Whatever it was, whether it was a just feeling or not she knew that tower was where they needed to go.

Before she could venture off Priore’s hand was gripping her arm like a vice.

“Where do you think you are going?!”

“Please, if the Dread Wolf’s coming I have to get to that tower!”

Her words fell on deaf ears, his grip only tightening as pain shot through her arm. Softening only when Priore’s attention was drawn back to the tavern, a very armoured and very angry looking Abelas watching at the exchange. For how long Ramia wasn’t sure, but the sentinel’s glare only grew when he saw the bruise that was slowly forming on her cheek.

Fenris and Isabella were not far behind. The captains dispersed and prepared for Solas and his arrival, all except for Priore who went back to his injured men after roughly letting Ramia go. Abelas approached Ramia, head drop low to look at her and his thumb brushing over the bruise with a healing spell. She didn’t need to explain who had done it, Abelas’ glare seeking the Captain Priore. No doubt he had a few choice words for the man but one look back to Ramia was enough. Starting a fight would do them no good. He knew that.

“He thinks we’ve set them up and lured Solas and his men here.” Ramia explained, her hand against the metal plating on his hip.

“And you think that gives him any right?”

“Please Abelas…Solas is already on his way, and we have to get to that tower.”

Ramia gestured with a flick of her head towards the distance, Abelas turning to look and grunting an affirmation before squeezing the back of her neck and leading her in that direction.

“Go, take Fenris and Isabella with you. I will meet you there,” Ramia was reluctant to leave him behind, everyone was now on edge and the last thing she wanted was for him to be alone with Priore. But Abelas only lifted her chin, his lips pressing against the corner of her mouth as he bent down to reach her. His eyes softening at the surprise on her face, publicly showing her affection was unexpected. Evident by the glow on her cheeks. “We don’t have much time fenor, go.”

Isabella was pulling her along, so how could she argue? They both, along with Fenris started to race to the tower.

Abelas watched them go, before walked slowly and casually up to the angry captain. His hands clasped behind his back as he looked over the injured men, inspecting the damage for himself. The wounds were like those of a sword but left burning grazes across the seared skin. No doubt Drynne’s work, and Abelas tutted at the idea that she may be present among Solas’ company. The woman had never taken her defeat in the crossroads against Ramia gracefully. No doubt the woman would never say no to coming to Estwatch.

Priore cursed under his breath when he caught sight of the sentinel.

“Will any of you be joining us should we find anything?” Abelas inquired, level toned. Not truly caring for the current state of the captain or his men.

“Fuck you and whatever the hell that sneaking harlot wants, take whatever you want from that haunted tower. This Dread Wolf can have you all when he comes.”

Despite the bravado Abelas could sense the man’s fear, as he should. He had seen for himself what Solas was capable of, and he was sure these raiders had heard the stories of what had occurred during the Qunari Invasion all those years ago, events that were still spoken of to this day. If they were lucky, Fereldan and Orlais would be capable of holding their ground in the fight against Solas when the time finally came.

They wouldn’t, Abelas knew. But this world and the mortals that lived in it had a habit of surprising him. Perhaps they would do so again.

“When he comes he will not harm you, allow him to dock and keep your men from attacking.”

“Won’t harm us you say? What do you call this?” Priore gestured to his men. “Does this look like the work of a man who knows mercy elf?!”

“They will not die from these wounds raider. This was simply a warning; one you should heed.”

The malice filled tone he ended his words with had not gone unnoticed by Priore, but before he could do anything a large hand came upon his shoulder. Abner appearing before the man, urging the captain to keep calm. To stay his hand.

Abelas gave the much larger raider a questioning gaze, the man unknown to him.

“Another captain elf, don’t look so suspicious,” Abner chuckled. “You both look like you want to rip each other’s heads off. Can’t be having that now…”

For a moment they all stood in silence, and Abelas was reminded of Priore’s assault on Ramia. For her sake he shouldn’t antagonise any of these raiders further.

Besides, they would need supplies. There was old magic. Faint but present at the tower he could sense. Whatever was there would not be handled in a day, and Abelas doubted this Abner’s generosity and ‘friendliness’ would last if he resorted to violence on his partner.

“I apologise for these turn of events. You must understand, the Dread Wolf and his forces’ arrival to Estwatch was inevitable. The Inquisitor’s daughter is the least likely of any to wish harm upon anyone on this island. Stopping Fen’harel is the sole reason she would even set foot here.”

“I know, I know…” Abner gave a long audible sigh, the turn of events heavy on everyone’s shoulders. “Well, you’d best get a move on. Me and my men will catch up once we get everything under control.”

Abelas nodded, appreciative of the calmer and collected attitude Abner showed. With luck, and with Abner’s assistance they would find what was hidden at that tower. Whether it was power, knowledge or both. Before Solas showed up with his men.

The sentinel prayed the Voices of the Well spoke to Ramia soon.

They were running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuvenan na amahn
> 
> I miss you/ I wish you here


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, turns out my break from this story didn't happen lol
> 
> I dunno, the motivation was there so i used it.
> 
> We'll get to some action soon hopefully! The chapter after this will involve feewings soo...
> 
> yah

When Abelas finally made it to the tower all three of his current companions stood before it, almost reluctant to venture inside. They could not be blamed, what looked like a ruin that should have fallen years beyond counting was still erected high. Pieces of worn stone missing in vital foundations, the very stone itself looking rotten. If there was even a possibility for such things.

This tower, and whatever was dwelling within was indeed old and wanted to be found. Held together by very old magic, traces of which were familiar to him. Sensations of it resembling the magics that resided in the Temple of Mythal, his home. That didn’t sit well with Abelas at all, for reasons he did not yet want to voice. Not until they found their destination true, where he could know for certain of what this was.

Fenris was the first to notice his arrival, a look of relief to the elf’s eyes when he saw no raiders had accompanied him.

“Good to see none of those morons followed.”

“One of them, Abner he called himself will come soon. With supplies and provisions,” Abelas stared up at the tall imposing ruin. “Just in case...he seems the only sensible sort of them all.”

“Abner’s a sweetheart,” Isabella added with a smile. “I hoped he’d be here when we arrived, this definitely would not have gone as well as it did, had he not been here.”

When eyes fell on Ramia the girl was fixated on the tower, hands holding tightly to her staff. Fenris cleared his throat to get her attention, the sound of it causing her to jump but it cut her out from her trance-like concentration.

“So this is it then?” Fenris asked her, his own face in a grimace. Clearly displeased by their current surroundings. The lyrium in his skin buzzed, reacting to whatever magic was here. That was enough to put the elf on edge. He had never spent much time near elvhen ruins, which he assumed was what they came to find. He also hoped never to set foot near one again after this if the magic in his body reacted in such a way near them.

“I think so…” Ramia turn a small glance in Abelas’ direction, his small nod making her feel more confident in her decision. “This is where we need to be.”

Isabella’s long drawn-out sigh grabbed everyone’s attention. The pirate looking stern and defensive.

“I don’t like this.”

“We have been through worse…but still, I have to agree with Isabella. I feel like this isn’t going to end well…for any of us…”

Ramia took a few cautious steps forward towards the entrance of the tower. An open archway, hinges hinting at doors long-since gone were tall and imposing. When Abelas walked towards her and continued forward she turned to face the others.

“I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for both me and Abelas. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, hopefully I’ll be able to thank Varric eventually,” The hard look on Fenris’ face softened at her words, remaining silent when the girl held a hand up to silence him. “I definitely don’t have any doubts that whatever is here or whatever’s waiting will be dangerous.”

Ramia took a long, deep inhale before continuing.

“You both were only asked to bring me here, if you want to continue and join us that is your own choice. But if don’t…you have my-our gratitude,” Ramia laughed as she looked behind her to Abelas, busy as he searched for wards. “Even if he doesn’t show it.”

Isabella and Fenris had no reason to join them, Ramia knew that. But this wasn’t June’s temple or Arlathan Forest. The idea of this venture done just with Abelas and herself frightened her, but she couldn’t force their two newest companions to join them in danger they hadn’t signed up to.

“It is safe.” Abelas calls to her.

Ramia turns sharply to him then back, giving Isabella and Fenris a small nod and her thanks again before joining him.

Isabella and Fenris watched her go, the pirate’s foot tapping agitatedly while Fenris looks around himself awkwardly before meeting Isabella gaze. Gesturing for her to follow him back to the docks.

“Isabella…”

“Fenris…”

“ _Isabella.”_

_“Fenris.”_

Fenris rubbed at his temples, looking from a glumly walking Ramia to Isabella’s scolding stare. Grumbling under his breath.

“Kaffas woman…”

“Do you honestly think you could go to sleep knowing you let that little ball of fluff run off into unknown peril with only Abelas to protect her?”

Fenris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She was right, whatever prowess the sentinel held he couldn’t rightly agree that he would be enough. Neither of them would survive in such small numbers.

“Why are we such kind and giving people Isabella?”

“Maker knows Fenris, maker knows…”

 

* * *

 

They were under no obligation to follow, but the lack of any sound behind her didn’t do anything for Ramia’s morale. It didn’t help that she had also started to enjoy both of their company, and the idea of having three well-experienced fighters on her side instead of one would have set her mind at ease. But they had made their choice, and she had to respect it. She tried her best to ignore that heavy pull in her lower belly, that fear, as she pushed herself to enter the tower and join Abelas.

“Ramia.” Abelas acknowledged, dusting his hands off as he approached her.

She smiled up at him. Didn’t want to show him she was afraid, didn’t want him thinking he wasn’t enough to protect her. He was enough, they didn’t need Fenris and Isabella she kept repeating to herself. Again and again until she could trick her brain into believing it was true.

Abelas seemed to see through it, squeezing the fat of her cheek and shaking her head side-to-side to tease. Earning himself a smack and a real smile this time, which was what he wanted.

“It does not suit you to look so glum. Do not be afraid Da’lath’in, we will survive this.”

“Yeah…this just feels a lot scarier somehow...”

A small shiver ran up her spine.

_We wait_

“There it is again!” Ramia whispered, startled as she whipped around again. When she looked back at Abelas his eyes were hard but not angry. If anything he seemed satisfied, relieved even.

“The voices are finally speaking to you, aren’t they?”

“What?”

“You heard something did you not?” Abelas asked her. Ramia tapped her staff against the ground, rocking on the tips of her toes.

“There was something about waiting. I think? I don’t know, it feels weird…”

“You will learn to control it,” He assures her, waiting for a nod in understanding before venturing further inside. “Come, this Abner will be back soon with supplies. Hopefully he will not be annoyed at having to take back extra provisions.”

“He won’t have to.”

Both Abelas and Ramia see Isabella and Fenris enter the tower. Isabella grinning from ear to ear at the pure joy on Ramia’s face. Fenris’ arms are crossed in front of him, not entirely happy at these circumstances but he was here. Ramia couldn’t be happier to see them both.

Isabella’s grin turned to laughter when Ramia crushed her in a bruising hug, thank her repeatedly. The pirate returned the gesture, giving Ramia a wink and smacking Fenris on the shoulder.

“We couldn’t bear the thought of you dying in a ditch somewhere. Besides, there might be treasure, always tends to be the case with these places,” Isabella’s eyes glazed over at the dream of gold possibly in their future. “And I do like treasure.”

“If we find anything it’s all yours, I don’t care. Just thank you, thank you so much! Both of you.”  

Fenris seems embarrassed by the whole affair, clearing his throat awkwardly and addressing the sentinel who watched from afar at the whole affair.

“Can’t have you doing all the work can we?”

Abelas scoffs at Fenris’ words, a hand on his hip as he rolled his eyes.

“Someone to swing a giant sword everywhere _would_ be useful I suppose,” Abelas stands tall when Fenris barks a laugh at the remark. “Jests aside, we are glad for your assistance. The magic here is familiar, similar to that in Mythal’s Temple were I once resided myself.”

“So that means…?”

“Estwatch rests atop another temple, yes,” Abelas looks around at the rubble of the tower, frown strong on his face. “I do not know however where the entrance could be.”

“Another temple dedicated to Mythal…” Ramia spoke in hushed tones.

“Most likely, but we will have to see.  It would be odd…so far out in the middle of the ocean…why would she have one so isolated…?”

Ramia watched Abelas curiously, the last half of his words more spoken to himself than to the group. Concern crossing his features as he and the others started digging up rubble. It would have to be a conversation for another time as the others were hard at work, Ramia used this time to try call the power of the well. To invoke the voices to speak to her, that perhaps they might show her where the entrance was.

The moment she had gazed upon the tower it was almost as if it had awakened them. Something calling out to them and trying to direct her. It was more than likely Abelas was right, and that something here was in relation to Mythal, and they were calling out to her. To the voices.

Here.

**_Here we wait._ **

“Ramia? Ramia!” Fenris called out as he watched her suddenly dash across the room and move a large piece of wood, revealing spiralling stairs. “Where is she going?!”

Ramia wanted to stop and tell them to follow but she kept going, descending the steps. Almost tripping over when she reached the bottom and got her foot caught on large pieces of wood.

If it wasn’t for the sunlight blaring through broken up parts of the ceiling above, the entire room would be encased in darkness. The surroundings Ramia found herself in were still was hard to see, but there were places along the walls that could be lit. She made fire in her hand and attended each one, the others reaching her when she lit the final brazier.

 “Darling you can’t just run off like that.” Isabella spoke the words slightly winded, just as worried as the others. Especially when Ramia wouldn’t even look at them. Just staring intently at the floor beneath them, and for a moment she closed her eyes. Listening to the voices again.

Ramia felt a pull from the ground below her, and at once she was grabbing the large rug that covered the floor. Grunting when she struggled to push it aside alone. Both Fenris and Isabella looked to Abelas for guidance, a nod their only answer as he directed them both to help Ramia.

With their collective strength, they pulled the covering away. Revealing a circular mosaic, old and worn with age but glistening in the sunlight that hit its edge.

“What is that?” Isabella watches as Abelas slowly walks closer to the emblem, bending on one knee to trace his hand over its surface. Rubbing away dust that had gathered over the years. The mosaic depicts Mythal, the same ones that stood large and tall within his own temple. His suspicions were correct, but now he was filled with only more questions.

Why did Mythal have a temple so isolated and far removed from the other lands stretched across Thedas? What was kept here?  

“This is it…we’ve found it.” Ramia whispers besides him, her hands tracing over the golden tiles and pouring her magic into them.

The tiles do not move, but the stone floor around them begins to tremble and Abelas is pulling Ramia to her feet. Both of them standing upon Mythal’s image while he calls out to Fenris and Isabella to move back. The floor gives way around the mosaic, creating stone steps that continue the spiral pattern as above. The dull heavy thudding of the stairs forming thundering loudly through the air.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on down there?!”

All four of them looked up to see Abner and a few of his men watching from above, weapons and tools at hand. With the entrance found and provisions ready, all four of them nodded gravely to each other.

The path below was dark, and echoed like the bowls of a cave.  For a moment they all felt it, that need to turn back and go anywhere but down into this temple foreign even to one of Mythal’s own.

But they didn’t have a choice. The only way forward was down.

To find what it _waiting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people reading this do you think the chapters are too short?
> 
> Is that something that you'd want changed?
> 
> You can ask me more about stuff on my tumblr, since i'm most active there:
> 
> mindtrove.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15 (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So not much progress per se in terms of adventure
> 
> But more in terms of Abelas and Ramia's relationship lol
> 
> Warnings for violence in the first half and smut later on :P

_“Ellas…Ellas? By the gods, where is that boy?!”_

_Rosal stood before several young initiates. All eager and waiting for their next task, some looking beside one another for the one missing pupil among them. One of the young girls, a petite and wide-eyed girl twisted her head back and broke into a giggle. All eyes turning to the source of her amusement, a young dishevelled boy rushing to reach them. The snow haired child panting and heaving when he stood with the others and caught his breath._

_Rosal gave a stern look and a raised hand to the children to cease their chuckling and snickering. Silence immediate._

_“You are late again Ellas…”_

_Ellas stared down at his feet, embarrassed at being scolded in front of his peers. All wide grins and scrutinising gazes. Everyone present aware why the boy was late._

_“Perhaps you would like to share what you learn in sleep hmm Ellas? I am sure the wisdom you accumulate is grand that you feel it suitable to wonder in dreams than attend **my** lessons.”_

_Ellas’ cheeks reddened, his eyes shifting from his mentor’s disappointed frown to the other students. His head bowing lower, voice coming out in a mutter as he tugged at his robe._

_“It will not happen again Master Rosal.”_

_“Well I am glad to hear so child.” Rosal replied. He sighed when the boy struggled to put his robes on correctly. Clearly abandoning the task in favour of arriving to his class at the earliest time he could. Rosal turned his gaze to the boy beside Ellas._

_“Sulvun, help him.”_

_Another boy, about Ellas’ height but hair dark and unruly compared to his own was quick to step in and do as their teacher had asked. Helping the boy right his robes, a complicated mess of sashes, ties and flaps. Sulvun quickened his movements when his ears picked up the tittering of the children behind them, wanting to prevent Ellas’ furthering embarrassment._

_“Enough,” Rosal commanded, tone even and firm as he addressed the other students. “Perhaps next time you will all ensure your fellow brothers and sisters are awake and present to attend lessons,” Suddenly Ellas was not the only one bowing their head in shame. “This behaviour juvenile, and demeans you all.”_

_When Rosal was sure the lesson had been well-ingrained, and Ellas was in a state of proper dress he dismissed them all to their mid-morning meditation. All the children bowed and made their way into the garden apart from Ellas, who stared confused at his teacher and mentor._

_“You missed the morning lecture Ellas.” Rosal explained, clearing the child’s confusion and his heart softening at disappointment replaced._

_“Forgive me Master Rosal…”_

_“It is done now my boy, but come with me to the gardens.” Rosal asked, waving off the teacher who would have attended Ellas to his learning of proper meditation._

_This caught the young priest-in-training’s attention, walking a bit faster to match Rosal’s speed. He knew better than to question, and waited until they entered the garden, now more full with his fellow students and their mentors. The single giant lotus white and shimmering in the brightness of the day._

_Ellas watched as Rosal lowered himself to sit on his knees, groaning and sighing in the process. A small pang of worry coming over the boy._

**_Yet their elders eventually became weary of life and memories. They would enter Uthenera, the long sleep._ **

_Ellas joined Rosal, sitting beside him and watching with worried eyes. Mimicking his master’s stance more tensely and agitated compared to the elder’s more relaxed posture. Rosal looked out in front of him, humming low in his throat as he observed the other priests deep in contemplation. The apprentices who shut their eyes tight as they tried to master what would take years in a matter of hours. The thought amused him, his eyes crinkling and shoulders jerking slightly when he chuckled._

_“Master…?”_

_Rosal ignored his student for a moment, his eyes glancing at the small floating land that housed the Well of Sorrows. Inaccessible by normal means. His heart feeling heavier._

_“It will not be long now…the Vir’abelasan calls…”_

_“Master?” Ellas calls again with more intensity, unsettled by his mentor’s reflective state. No one spoke of the well unless someone was reaching the end of their years. Losing a member of the cloth, or anybody within their temple for that matter, was an event Ellas loathed. Hated._

_Rosal knew this all too well, giving the boy an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder._

_“Master, why am I not meditating like the others?”_

_“Because I wished to speak with you.”_

_“We are not speaking, we are sitting! For the past five minutes!”_

_“Oh? Has it truly been that long?”_

_Ellas immediately held his tongue, his cheeks flushing again. Aware that he had spoken rudely, and displayed great impatience. Unbecoming of one who wished to walk the path of priesthood. Rosal saw the boy had caught his error, and took the realisation in Ellas’ mind and gave voice to it._

_“What am I Ellas? What is it you have been studying and training for? That which binds us as one and the same?”_

_“You are….and I am…a priest of Mythal…Master.”_

_“Yes Ellas, Priests of Mythal.” Rosal looked across the garden again, coming across one of his fellow brothers with a guest to the temple. He was sitting the man down with him, trying to calm the fury in his eyes._

_“Mythal delivers vengeance to those who seek it, if they are worthy. The sentinels of the temple oversee such proceedings…” Rosal spoke these words as he continued to watch from afar, the temple guest bending and praying as the priests did. “However, there are times, where one can be pure of heart and noble in their cause, but vengeance is not the right path to take.”_

_Ellas followed Rosal’s line of sight._

_“That is why we exist, to guide and teach Ellas. To show not all resolutions to one’s noble struggle requires blood or fire,” Rosal turned to Ellas, eyes hard but kind. “Such a duty requires discipline, kindness…and **patience**.”_

_“Is that why we do not fight?”_

_“How can a priest preach a life without violence if his hands have been sullied with blood?”_

_Ellas looked down at his knees, the rhetoric making him question many things. Ever since he was brought to the temple as a babe it was decided for him that he would become a priest, as was always the fate of orphans that ended up in the care of Mythal’s people. Unless another path was decided for them._

_But for many long years now he began to struggle, as so many at his stage of youth did, his elders reassured him with every mistake but he could not shake these doubts that plagued him. He wanted to do his mentor Rosal proud, wanted to follow the way of the priesthood. That he may one day do justice to the vallaslin that adorned his cheeks. The mark of Mythal’s servants who stayed from a life of chaos and violence. Devoted to healing and knowledge._

_But something felt unsettled in his heart, weighed it down. News had reached them of wars waged by the other gods. That temples, once sacred and holy ground, were safe no more. While his fellow peers, the scholars and priests of the temple felt no fear, no need to act when they had the sentinels to protect them, Ellas did not feel such comfort. That anxiety worried him, that he could not clear his head of rampaging thoughts. A feat that came so easy to men like Rosal, to students like Sulvun._

_But not Ellas._

_Rosal sighed, giving the boy another affectionate squeeze and rising to his feet. When Ellas tried to rise with him he was stopped, his elder motioning for him to stay._

_“Continue your contemplation Ellas, commune with the spirits,” Rosal waved a hand towards the centre of the garden where the giant lotus sat in a shimmering pool, glowing wisps dancing around it. “Do not feel too troubled my boy.”_

_Ellas watched Rosal leave, his eyes slowly trailing back to gaze at the lotus. A useful focal point, and so he closed his eyes and tried to do as his mentor bid._

_His meditation was interrupted by the sound of a ringing bell, loud and repetitive. A panic shattered him, the bell only rung in times of emergencies._

_Or when they were under attack._

_All the other priests and students were rising to their feet, confusion and fear lit in their eyes. The elders acted quick, gathering the children and students together and herding them back to the living quarters. Their urgency quickening at the arrival of one of the sentinels rushing to the gardens, roaring for them all to hurry and head further inside._

_An arrow lodged itself in the sentinel’s back, silencing him. Ellas was rooted to the spot in shock, watching the warrior stagger to the ground and become still._

_Run he told himself, stop staring at the fallen sentinel and run. They were under attack and he had to run._

_“Ellas!” A young boy was calling him, a hand grabbing his wrist and pulled him from his shock._

_“Sulvun…” Ellas spoke his name in a shaky murmur, the sight of the dead sentinel new and frightening. But he was grateful for Sulvun, his free hand coming atop the one holding his own. “What is happening?”_

_“We have to go!” The boy screamed at him, this was not the time for questions._

_Sulvun was dragging Ellas across the garden, the sound of screaming and elemental magics being cast thundering all around them. But suddenly they weren’t running, Sulvun wasn’t holding his wrist anymore, and Ellas’ face was wet._

_Sulvun was on the ground, still and unmoving. Blood seeped from his side and sunk into the soil below them. And a hand to his face showed the wetness was Sulvun’s blood smeared across him._

_Ellas’ heart beat faster and louder, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Hands shaking at his sides as the culprit for Sulvun’s murder stood before him, armour stained with blood and vallaslin scattered across his face like thin wretched vines. His eyes blazed like fire as he slowly turned his attention on Ellas._

_The sounds of fighting and panic continued around him, heightening his fear as the warrior before him continued to slowly approach him._

_Both of their attentions were drawn to the sound of a gurgling gasp. Sulvun was still alive, but barely. Clutching to life with every choke-filled grasp for air. Sulvun’s eyes reaching for Ellas, pleading without words for his help, tears falling down the poor boy’s cheeks._

_“Sulvun…” Ellas sniffled, tears escaping from the corners of his own eyes when the warrior turned and saw Sulvun on the ground. Walking back to finish the job._

_“Don’t…” Ellas called weakly, his mind screaming at him to do something, but he couldn’t move. Petrified by fear, helpless to do anything but watch as Sulvun was silenced completely. Panic rising when the man was coming for him again with sword raised high. Ellas closed his eyes and waited for death, screaming high and loud._

_The blow never came, and instead a stone fist went colliding into the enemy warrior. Another sentinel saving him and grabbing hold of Ellas, the boy too paralysed and frightened to do anything as he was taken to safety. His eyes fixated on Sulvun and the warriors’ dead bodies as they became smaller and smaller the further away he was taken._

* * *

 

_The rest became a blur to Ellas, eventually the invaders were held back and thwarted. Many had been killed, twice as many injured. Against the wishes of the other priests Ellas sought out Master Rosal, word spreading that he had been injured. When Ellas found him he was accompanied by healers and a few Sentinels, the tension in the room high._

_“To attack Mythal’s own in her own temples…has Falon’din gone mad?!”_

_“Lower your voice child.” Rosal intervened, despite his wounded state he continued to try and remain a voice of reason. The sentinel responsible for the outburst paced the room, outraged by today’s events._

_“He wishes to amass more worshippers,” One of the healers noted blandly, continuing to attend to Rosal’s wounds. “It was only a matter of time…”_

_“ **He gains nothing from this!** ” The sentinel roared, his anger and disgust evident. _

_“Calm yourself.” Rosal repeated to the sentinel his own frustration seeping through his teeth. But the sentinel would not relent, his pain at this massacre overriding his better judgement._

_“This cannot go unpunished; my duty is clear-”_

_“ **Your duty** …is to protect this temple, to protect the people here,” Rosal exhaled heavily, both from pain and from his own growing frustration at the current circumstances. “The priests and scholars are frightened…the children…are frightened…” _

_Those words seemed to have calmed the sentinel enough to sit him down, a hand running through his hair before staring at the ground in defeat._

_“Word has been sent, and Mythal will decide what must be done. Even then it will be the knights who perform her will on Falon’din and his ilk. Not you…your place is here.”_

_“Yes…” The man accepted, rising to his feet to leave._

_Rosal gave the sentinel a nod before he ushered the healer to leave._

_“If you will excuse me my child, I must speak with Ellas. You can out now my boy…I know you are there.”_

_All watched the small boy’s head peek out from behind the archway that led to the infirmary, Ellas walking with meek steps towards his mentor. Aware of all the eyes that were all on him, the boy still wearing his blood-stained robes. This only seemed to insight more inner rage from the temple guardian, but he left as Rosal had asked, leaving him alone with Ellas._

_When they were both finally alone, Ellas burst into tears. His pain pouring out into wails as Rosal pulled him into an embrace, rubbing at the boys back and hushing the boy. The priest was silent as he allowed Ellas to lash out, to express his misery and horror at what had transpired._

_“Sulvun is dead! So many are dead and it’s all my fault!” Ellas screamed into Rosal’s lap._

_“There was nothing you could do child…”_

_“I could have stopped him!” Ellas heaved, eyes red and breathing coming out in short puffs as he failed to control his emotions. “I could have saved Sulvun but I just stood there…I did nothing…”_

_Rosal watched as Ellas clenched at the sheets, his face obscured but he knew well enough how distraught the boy must look. He pulled the boy to sit up, careful not to agitate the bandaged wound at his side, and helped wipe away the boys tears. His face now puffy and red._

_“If you had tried to stop him you would be dead Ellas, and then we would have lost you both.”_

_He clutched the side of Ellas’ face and wiped one last tear before it could fall. Small hiccups and breaths left as he sent the boy on his way. Prayers and ceremonies would have to be discussed. It would take a century before the pain would even begin to subside at the loss had this day._

_As Ellas left the sentinel from before returned, his eyes trained on the boy as he approached Rosal. The veteran seemed lost in thought, concerned for the priest-initiate and the effect today’s tragedy may-no, there was no doubt in his mind the consequences of what the boy had witnessed. Of how it will change him._

_“He is not fit for the priesthood…”_

_“Not anymore no…it is a shame…” Rosal murmured. “But, I have had such suspicions for some time. I just wish he did not need to find his true calling in such a way…”_

_“He clearly feels frustration without the means to protect himself and others. Once he has mourned, we will take him in for training.”_

_“Then it seems it cannot be avoided. Perhaps he will find what he seeks as a sentinel…gods guide him.”_

* * *

 

Remembering his youth had become more frequent over the years for Abelas. The unpleasant ones more than anything. Ellas was from another time, another place, but that day and the ones thereafter built what Abelas would stand for.

Protect and keep the ideals of your god sacred.

“Abelas?”

He turned to the sound of his voice, Fenris. He remembered now, that they had taken Abner’s supplies and headed down to find what lied beneath Estwatch. So far they had only found caves, still too close to the surface to find anything concrete. They made camp when they finally made progress by a large inconspicuous door, whatever laid before it, they wanted to be prepared. So they stopped to rest. The journey so far had been surprisingly long.

Fenris had taken some of the stock and started a stew, from the smell of it. Abelas was not one for much of an appetite, but he had taken to joining for meals more out of social necessity than to quench hunger.

“Forgive me…I seem to have lost track of time.” Abelas muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. How simple melancholy could take so much out of him he wasn’t sure. Fenris seemed to notice his exhaustion as he regarded his strained posture.

“Ramia is asleep in your tent, join her and I’ll wake you both when the food is done.”

Abelas didn’t want to argue or object to the offer and made his way where Fenris pointed. Their tent was quite isolated, Isabella’s insistence no doubt. The woman had a knack for her mind wondering to more inappropriate destinations, he had learnt. Perhaps wanting to grant Ramia more privacy, or for them both.

A small smile graced his lips at the sight that greeted him inside. Ramia sprawled on her belly unceremoniously, in nothing but a vest and her smalls. Small breathy snores coming from mouth as she drooled on the pillow clutched tightly to her person. Abelas had already removed his armour prior and crawled to lay beside her.

His presence did not seem to wake her as she continued to sleep away. His hand coming to brush away her hair and reveal a small pointed ear, so short compared to his own.

“Everything about is so small.” Abelas commented, even though there was no one to answer, a small chuckle escaping him when a small snort escaped her. Her nose scrunching up when he brushed a thumb across her brow, lips pressing against her temple.

“Arasha… _you do not deserve this…”_  He whispered in elvhen, wishing he could take back his actions to give her the well. Even if he knew there was no other way, their journey would only continue to become more dangerous. And the idea of Ramia coming to harm worried him more and more.

Abelas was jumped out of his thoughts when Ramia awoke abruptly, head shooting up and shaking side to side, before she went back to her sleepy demeanour with her head plopped down on her make-shift pillow. Her eyes caught his, giggling softly and nudging him with her knee.

“Did I scare you? I wake up like that sometimes.”

Abelas joined her, laying on his back and looking at the tent ceiling. Ramia mimicked him, hands clasped together on her stomach as she stared at him. She knew he had many things on his mind, things he wanted to voice but wasn’t sure how or where to start. Leaning her cheek against his shoulder.

“You like to brood a lot don’t you?”

“I prefer the term reflecting.”

“You like to _reflect_ a lot don’t you?” Ramia snickered, laughing lightly when he smacked her thigh, unable to hide his grin. Slowly it faded, till his lips fell into a small frown.

“Does it…bother you?”

“Hmm? The brooding? Nah, I do it a lot too. When no one’s looking.”

“What do you worry about?”

“Ah y’know the usual, family…the end of the world…whether I should cut my hair or not.”

“I like it as it is,” Abelas spoke as he took a few strands between his fingers. “Your ends are not looking to good however.”

It was her turn to slap him, but jesting was left behind as she leaned against his shoulder. A serious air falling on them as she wordlessly urged him to speak him mind. Abelas took a long-drawn sigh, staring back up as he thought about that time as a child. How badly death had affected him, of the lifetime of service he pledged to Mythal to protect her and everything she stood for. Of his failure to do so.

Of the years spent in Solas’ service, that now seemed a mistake.

“I did feel for a time…from the moment I had reawakened from Uthenera and never returned to the endless sleep, that this world was…false. A world that should never have come to pass, foreign and unacceptable.”

Ramia rose to lean on her forearms, listening more intently as she stared. Almost worried where this discussion would lead.

“When the Dread Wolf came with a means to restore Elvhenan I…how could I say no?” Abelas asked her, as if she could answer such a question. “But it would be no simple feat, not with the people of this world…you and your mother fighting back. No, it would and did take years.”

For a moment Abelas seemed lost in thoughts that brought him shame.

“Many in Solas’ army are like you Ramia, mortal. I fought and broke bread alongside these men and women…they were my comrades…something I did not believe possible with people I saw as shadows.” His hands clench tightly, hard enough that Ramia tried to pry one open before he could do himself harm. “I did all this knowing when the time came they would die in the chaos that tearing down the veil would bring…”

“How long did you feel like this?”

“I had begun to question long before we met, I had sworn myself to protect my people…who are dead or few in number now…” Abelas shut his eyes tight, the ache in his chest pulling tighter. Faces of the dead in Mythal’s temple from when he was a child and from the attack from the Venatori flooding his mind. “I had once witnessed innocent people killed before my eyes and done nothing, I swore to myself I would never let anything like that happen again.”

Abelas loosened his hand, allowing Ramia to fit her own against it.

“I believe that is why I allowed what happened between us in Arlathan Forest to…occur as it did.”

“You were looking for a way out…”

Ramia felt a sudden wash of embarrassment, shrinking away. Abelas’ confession bringing up an insecurity she held close to her heart, feeling confirmed in her fears that what they had was heavily one sided. Abelas saw her withdrawal, rising quickly to sit upright and pull her up to meet him. Her hands clasped tightly in his.

“Please Ramia…do not be upset, I do not regret what had happened or what _has_ happened, and I will not lie and say you did not help influence my decision to stay or leave my role at Fen’harel’s side,” Ramia wouldn’t look at him, but she didn’t pull away. She listened, it was all she offered as she motioned for him to continue. “I felt remorse at your reaction to Solas taking away your mother and sister, and took your demand to find them. Regardless of whether I held no obligation to do so, it…worried me that I felt guilty for it. Like it was a true betrayal…”

 

_He remembers the hot tears burning down her cheeks, fists that could do no harm slamming against him in retaliation for a crime he didn’t commit, but held by him like the burden a headsman carries on his rusty axe, covered in blood rightfully slain._

 

_Her fury, anger and pain should not have moved him, fear of what it meant that it **did** plaguing him the year it took to find the Inquisitor._

“I thought about you incessantly…distanced myself from affairs as much as possible without realising so,” Abelas’ hands come to lift Ramia’s face, her eyes glossy from tears she fought away. His forehead pressing against her own. “You had spoken of elves in history, the accomplishments of your people. It was humbling…to teach myself. I wanted more than guilt and lust as motivations to my new goals.”

_He remembers the names of heroes spat in frustration. Slayers and saviours and the exemplary of her kind. He is reminded of his own people who crumbled but endured the wars and disasters of their own world._

_How those who did not escape and enter the endless dream of Uthenera survived and made a life in a world that seemed uninhabitable. He feels shame as well as pride, the bleak shadows taking on forms and faces and names._

“When I saw you again at Skyhold,” His hold on her faltered, when he saw her softened it gave him courage to continue. Knowing her hurt had not warded her from him. “I was…so happy, happier than I had felt in a long, long time.”

“I’m feeling a bit confused Abelas…have you really wanted this? Any of this.” Ramia barely spoke above a whisper, afraid of what his answer might be. Scared everything they have done together was more for her benefit than for them both.

Abelas pulled Ramia onto his lap, their faces inches apart. She turned her face away, too shy to look at him and too confused by his contradictions. His hand was cupping her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“I do not do anything of that sort unless I wish to Ramia,” His lips brushed against hers, her cheeks flushing as she felt his breath against her skin. “I care deeply for you; our time together has only shown me I made the right choice in taking this further…with you. That my new path is what should be done, that there is worth in the people here. They do not deserve to perish.”

He crushed his lip against her, swallowing her surprised whimper. Pulling her closer, letting himself take what she would give. Relinquish that need to withhold and remain impassive, his hands roaming and touching everywhere he could reach. Sighing in content when she returned the kiss with just as much vigour, feeling his eagerness. Yearning to encourage this release he was allowing himself.

His voice came out lower in timbre, breathless as he spoke endlessly to her in his mother tongue. Leaving a wet trail of kisses down her throat as he pulled her head to the side. Fingers soothing and exquisite against her scalp as she sighed his name.

“ _I know love will come, and when it does my heart will be filled to burst.”_

 

His voice sent a small shiver down Ramia’s spine, his words warmth in her heart. A small part of her wished for him to confess loving her as she did him. But she saw the way his hands had trembled, how his voice shook as he gave voice to thoughts and feelings he would have otherwise kept locked away.

Ramia could wait. As long as it took, she would wait.

An idea came to mind that lit a spark in her eyes, bottom lip catching between her teeth as she readjusted herself on Abelas’ lap. Hands pulling him close again for another kiss, with more tongue and more fervour. Her hand trailing lower, giggling against his throat when his hand halted her, but she had already felt him. Hard against his clothing.

“Ramia…we can’t.”

“Why not?” She asked casually, smiling at the small blush on his cheeks. His eyes trained on the tent flap. Suddenly they could hear the sound of movement a bit far off, but not far enough it seemed. Ramia laughed again, kissing the exposed skin of his collar, loosening the fastenings of his pants and pulling him free.

“Someone may hear us.”

“We’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t we?”

“Just…” Abelas looked from Ramia’s decent towards his aching member and the two companions outside unawares. Rubbing his eyes before laying down, a hand on Ramia’s head to guide and the other to shield his eyes. Wondering where his willpower had gone. “Do not do that…thing you do…with your teeth…”

“But you like it when I do that.” Ramia complained, pouted lips pressed against the head of him. The sight making Abelas cursed under his breath and push her to wrap her lips around him.

“I do not feel like alerting the others to what we are doing.”

Abelas was silent within moments, his member wrapped in the wet warmth of her mouth, pulling a long drawn out groan from him. She was always so eager and it showed, her tongue pressing against spots she learnt quick that drove him mad. He opened his eyes, frustrated when he felt her release him. Leaning back on her knees to stare at him with a teasing smile.

She placed her hands at the band of her smalls, contemplating whether to remove them or not. Abelas softened his gaze, watching her with a sense of wonderment.

“You are beautiful Ramia.”

Her eyes widened, frozen in place and surprised at the sudden compliment. Her cheeks burning at the heart-felt gaze her gave her. Huffing as she removed her smalls, shimmying and moving about awkwardly with the limited space she had.

“Shush.”

Abelas laughed, kicking her with the heel of his foot to come closer, until she was close enough to reach down for another kiss. Turning until she lay flat on her back and he nestles between her legs, humming pleasurably as he aligned himself against her. Already wet and ready for him.

“I mean it…” Abelas promises as he slides inside her, both clutching each other. The first push always having a way with them. “Beautiful.” He whispers, setting a controlled pace. His thrusts slow but penetrating deep and harsh when their hips meet.

Ramia gasps every time, heart hammering and walls clenching him, tightly like she does him. Her whimpers and moans muffled against his shoulder to make sure no one can hear them. He’s so much better at keeping quiet, but she sees the perspiration on his brow, his breathing laboured as he loses himself in her.

“Abelas…”

It’s all she can call as a warning as she tightens even more around him in spasms, pleading for him to go faster and make the release that threatens all the sweeter. Abelas obliges, because it feels wrong to refuse her.

_Their relationship the only thing she was ever able to choose for herself, he sees it in the way she holds him and looks at him. In the way she calls his name when he takes her, voice filled with love he wants to believe he deserves._

He stills when she comes undone, letting her ride the waves of it, completely filled with him. It takes everything he has not to spend himself right there and then as she purrs and moans. Her hands lowering to her lower belly, reaching out for his hips to pull him even closer. Even though he has nowhere to go.

And when she’s brought back to the present and the shudders have faded he pulls out and lets her bring him to his own attainment.

Abelas nuzzles against the crook of her neck as he collects himself, the troubles waiting for them outside their tent distant as Ramia rubs and draws gentle patterns across his back. His leg sprawled across her as he hums against her ear, smiling at her small chuckle and gentle kiss laid on his brow.

“When you two are done maybe you’d like to join us for dinner?”

Both of them immediately freeze, and when an answer never came Isabella’s laughter filled the air, and Ramia couldn’t help but share in her amusement. Abelas however, only seemed embarrassed, staring annoyed at Isabella’s silhouette that could be seen outside the tent.

“I warned you…”

“Muzzle yourselves all you like but this…” Isabella began.

Both Ramia and Abelas proceeded to see Isabella slap her thigh repeatedly, the realisation of the noise she imitated sending both of them into a blushing fit.

“That’s a noise no one can hide!” Isabella declared as she laughed her way to the centre of camp. Leaving Ramia alone to comfort an embarrassed Abelas.

 “We will have to spend god knows how long down here with them.” He complained, rubbing his face with both hands.

“You like them really Abelas, don’t try and hide it.”

“Maybe some strange cave creature will kill me before humiliation does…” He continued to mutter to himself.

“So dramatic!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblrrr: mindtrove.tumblr.com
> 
> Ask me stuff if you like :P


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little something while I still edit the next chapter. Sorry for how long this is taking and for any confusion on the change of name! But now my tumblr name and AO3 name are the same so good!

She is truly their child.

And finally Solas sees now why Moro named her Laisa. Lost soul, born of two people who should be of the same kind but centuries and a choking veil keep their blood apart.

She is elvhen and yet is not, unbound by the disease of aging but bound to this world in heart. And when she grows, she must choose between Thedas or Elvhenan and there will be confliction in her heart. To see exist in this insanity or allow him to purge it for the rebirth of where she belongs.

Solas doesn’t look forward to the day she learns to hate him for it. For that is inevitable.

But she will out-live her sister and mother both, and that is a pain he would free her from. Her immortality and magic is a gift; he will not see it become a curse in her eyes.

His love, Moro has more insight that he affords her, but she always manages to surprise him, even now. Despite the silent arrogance with which she wields it.

He once watched Laisa, her eyes fixated on a tome far too advance for her years. Every time she finishes a page she rips the paper out, and stares at him or at her mother. Whomever is in the room to watch over her. She knows the books are precious and such behaviour is unacceptable, but she does it regardless. He once asked her why and she looks at him and shrugs with that cold aloofness he’s come to associate with his daughter.

A disposition of apathy for anything and everything in this castle besides her mother, and himself occasionally. He has yet to win her over since bring her to this palace, she had seemed so affectionate when they had first met. Perhaps being witness to many of his and Moro’ arguments despite both their efforts to hide them from her has coloured her view. The fact that she misses her sister dearly does not placate either, she no doubt blames him for their separation.

  _Because I want to_ she told him about the tome and her actions. He thinks there is some deeper meaning to her actions, but it may be as simple as it is.

She has that same hard concentration Moro held when tinkering or deep in a menial task. But she still has too many of his features he thinks. Hair a reddened brown but tightly waved like her mothers. She has his eyes and his freckles though, the same nose, the same everything and he wants to beg Moro’s forgiveness for the pain that must have brought and continues to bring every time she looks at her.

But that would mean questioning her love for her own daughter, and Solas knows better than to get himself a kick in the teeth.

Laisa has a temper Solas has learnt too, burns as brightly as her mothers. Her angry passions instilled in each child she has sired. But while Ramia’s comes out in bumbling words, Laisa holds it. She nurtures it and lets it grow and fester while she plots. Tactical.

Like her father…

He remembers the first time he had seen it.

She lied about the ‘character’ of the guard captain. Who foolishly threatened to find and kill her sister. She made the accusation in public to him, her father, where all could see. He knew he could not doubt her and let the man go unpunished, at least in image, not in front of his subordinates. He knew this, she knew this. When the captain was taken away he sees the triumph in his daughter’s eyes.

Tactical indeed.

But she is not all conniving and observant spying.

She loves, feels with every fibre of her being and he thinks that is why she is the way she is.

When her mother smiles she beams, when her father chuckles she screeches with joy. When they are both sad she is a doting comforter.

And whenever news of her sister comes, favourable or not she cries. She cries and she cries and breaks his heart until it is fractured beyond his belief in its repair.

She misses her.

Solas misses her, blood or no, Ramia is still his daughter. She should not be out there fighting against him with sorrow at her side. He sees his daughter’s weeping and knows this is where Ramia should be. Her place is here, with her family.

Skyhold is his again, and when his task is done they can return home. That is how it should be. Moro and Ramia do not understand, but they will in time. He prays to whatever forces command this universe that they do.

“Da’vhenan.” He calls to her, and she looks at him with puffed eyes as she leaves her mother’s room. She had been crying again.

“Yes father?” She responds, babae no longer. She grows, and he knows he will miss the old moniker, but for now he smiles and takes her hand in his.

“I am going away for a while, to try and bring back your sister…” He pauses, reluctant in his heart’s request but he sees her eyes light up at the mention of Ramia and he understands her reasoning.

“Do you wish to join me?”

She holds him tightly; it is enough of an answer. His love is fractured, his first child an innocent enemy who uselessly fights against the inevitable.

Solas doesn’t look forward to the day Laisa learns to hate him. So he will afford her what he can now, savour a daughter’s love before it is taken away from him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramia and her companions make leeway into the temple and make some progress. Learning more about where they are and what that might mean for them.

It took all four of them to open the large door that stood between them and the temple proper. The magic runes used to seal it had ceased working. How long was uncertain, but Abelas recognised the wards, a displeased sound rumbled low in his throat as he destroyed them. Just in case they decided to act up.

“These wards are like the ones specifically made for tombs, places for the elvhen to enter Uthenera.”

“Like the Tombs for the Emerald Knights? My mother spoke of one she went to with her companions during the Inquisition.” Ramia explained, taking the now defunct rune and keeping it.

Even if she had long decided Elvhenan could not be restored, it was still her history. And keeping these little tokens had their worth, regardless of their usefulness.

“Not exactly…well, your Emerald Knights were an attempt to re-create Mythal’s knight. The ones I spoke of years ago you recall? When I showed you my temple.”

They forsook closing the door behind them, the sheer effort it had taken to open it not worth the trouble. The further they went, the higher the ceilings became till they came upon a long hall that towered above them. Large pillars, holding the earth above at bay and the grandiose space were all that gave off any sense of extravagance.

Compared to all the other elvhen temples it was very humbling, but the dark stone and veilfire gave it the atmosphere of dread and unease that could only be delivered by a tomb.

Fenris was the first to speak, his hand itching at his side as he stared ahead of them. His brows furrowed and a frown set in his jaw.

“Are you sure we’re not in the deep roads? This no temple, just dwarven roads with elvhen designs slapped on top.”

“I don’t know…” Abelas spoke under his breath, his hand tracing the ancient texts that covered great expanses of the pillars and every stone surface. “These are prayers in my language, but they are unknown to me.”

“You sound nervous Abelas.”

Isabella matched the sentinel’s confused and displeased frown. They all watched as he turned to address them. All three of them expectant and apprehensive of what any of this could mean.

“We will need to be cautious.”

The seriousness of his tone removed any place for wit or sarcasm. The idea of caution had been indented in all their minds the entire journey to this point. They thought they had safety in the knowledge they had one of the ancients with them. The thought that even to Abelas, this was foreign territory did not sit well with any of them.

Ramia saw the worrying glances cross everyone’s face, she saw how they steeled themselves. Hands within ready reach over their weapons as they prepared to journey further. But the atmosphere had changed, and felt the need to intervene the only way she knew best.

To act naively optimistic.

“Well, the special secret Solas wants isn’t going to find itself!” She piped, with a tap of her staff along the ground. Walking ahead of the group.

“There could be anything ahead Ramia, please stay close.” Abelas called as he made quick strides to catch up with her.

“Then keep up!”

“Not too hard to accomplish…stubby as your legs are.”

“Ah ha ha, Abelas made a funny…”

They all continued on until they came to an archway that opened up to a room twice the size of any room Ramia had ever seen in her life. Large staircases led to other locations, four in total including the one they stood atop with all the doors shut. The room was bare of any decorations, save for numerous braziers that kept the room alight. The only other item of notice was the lone statue at the centre of the room, depicting a giant great sword stabbed into the stonework.

They were too far away to make out anything else, and Ramia was the first to head towards it. Ignoring the protests from behind her, her footsteps echoing as she hurried down the stone steps. Her movements scattered on the stone, many of them worn away from age.

“So creepy to have all these fires lit…” Isabella commented as they moved to join her, never straying far from Fenris as she shifted her eyes side-to-side at their surroundings.

She threw a concerned look to Ramia, who knelt over the statue. Seemingly unconcerned for anything else. Isabella nudged Abelas in the arm, gesturing to the girl ahead.

“Is she going to be alright? I know she’s got that weird magic elf thing going on butu…we don’t know anything about this place…”

“The well is no longer a threat to her, not with its tie to Solas severed. It is more a boon to us here than a disadvantage.”

Isabella didn’t seem totally convinced, Abelas saw that look in her eye. The same was in Fenris, albeit harder to see. They worried for the foreign magic in Ramia and what it might do to her, what it might do to them in some scenario where she could not control it.

“Do not concern yourselves, Ramia chose this. The well of sorrows is knowledge. A key. Should it come that it could be used as a weapon, she is the only one who could be in danger. And I will not allow that.”

There was a finality to his statement that left no room for further argument. But that did not mean the conversation was over, at least not for Fenris. Who had wished to fish out more information out of Abelas about their current surroundings. “So you honestly know nothing of this place? At all?”

Abelas looked around the hall. This seemed a grim and dark place, void of much in the form of decorations. Even his own temple, plane as it was for his people’s standards, did not go without its fair share of opulence. But this temple, whatever it was for, was not to be ventured numerously. It’s isolated location, the bareness of it besides the prayers etched into the stone.

Prayers that whispered through the stonework, Abelas let the words sink into him. Vibrate through his bones and sing in his blood. Invocations for followers of Mythal, for a death that may or may not come.

_That once the All-Mother’s siren ushered them from the long sleep. May this sanctuary be swallowed by the sea._

Abelas was startled out of his trance, gasping for breath and eyes darting to Fenris’ hand on his arm. Both the elf and the pirate watch him expectant for an answer. How long had he been in that state to cause worry or curiosity?

He saw the look they both held, disliking their current predicament. It seemed foolish in his mind to offer everything the prayers spoke, and decided not to omit too much. The knowledge even to himself was unsettling, that at a moment’s notice unleashing whatever was down here would cause severe casualties. If they were not careful.

“Something happened just now didn’t it?” Fenris asked, agitated. “What do you know?”

“I had hoped…” Abelas began, his eyes staring ahead at Ramia. “We would simply find an orb at this temple, another foci of the Pantheon.”

“But…?”

“There is something else here, and we must be cautious…and probably catch up with Ramia.”

The last omission was something they could all agree on, their hurried steps synchronising as they fell into a small jog to reach Ramia. She knelt before the statue, a stone tablet at its base. Her fingers traced the ancient text, whispering under her breath until she noticed her companions behind her. Gesturing for them to come closer, to share what she had found.

_Let fly your voice to Mythal  
Deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike_

  
We few who travel far; call to me and I will come,  
Without mercy, without fear.  
Cry havoc in the moonlight,  
Let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear.

When Ramia finished reciting the text she turned to Abelas for guidance.

“What does this mean?”

“It means we are most definitely in a temple dedicated to Mythal. I had seen such commandments spoken and displayed in only a few such places. For her knights.”

“But why would there be a temple solely for them?”

Abelas wondered that himself, the knights were respected and revered it was true, but no place of worship would be made to dedicate them as it was evident here. He supposed if they did, this place would reflect how they were in life. Nothing like this dull, tomb-like crypt.

_He remembers himself a boy gazing upon one such knight. Exalted and glittering like the sun._

“If this is truly a place for Mythal’s knights alone, then this may be no temple.” Abelas offered the information, but could not hold much conviction in the words. And it frustrated him, the knights had no temples, no sanctuaries. They were sworn by blood to protect Mythal, to die and kill in her name.

The day Mythal was slain was the day the knights had come to naught. Never to be seen again, he had seen it with his own eyes as Arlathan crumbled with the erected veil.

“I do not understand why this place exists.”

It shouldn’t, but it was here and defying his beliefs on the matter. A heavy pull at the pit of his stomach grew. He grabbed at Ramia’s hand when she tried to touch the stone sword, they had to be extremely careful while here. He was supposed to be the knowledgeable one of the group here and now that had changed. He was just as clueless as the rest of them, it was bitter knowledge to swallow.

Ramia seemed reluctant to obey, disobedience in her eyes as she rose to her feet. Gazing intently at the sword as she grazed it with the tips of her fingers regardless of Abelas’ previous attempt to halt her. Reciting the last of the text.

“ _Bear arms for the All-Mother, forgo all worldly possessions and strife. Only then, will your sins and struggle be washed away…and the path to glory laid bare…”_

“Bring justice for the righteous, and order to the innocent. On this day you are now _Ena'sal'in'amelan_ _,_ _one who protects victory.” Abelas finished._

Ramia turned, surprised at his omission.

“That part wasn’t written.”

“No.” Abelas agreed. “But what you are reciting are the words recited to those who pledged themselves into Mythal’s service as a knight, I imagine they missed it out because it was not needed here.”

“Then it’s…?”

“A clue, an elusive means of hinting the way forward.”

Ramia nodded in understanding, taking the term to ‘bear arms’ to mean the sword should be removed from its place on the stone tablet. It seemed the only logical explanation.

“I have to pull it out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Fenris objects, trying to come between Ramia and the sword. She was climbing up higher, ignoring him before turning to face him with and matching his furrowed brows and deep set frown.

“It’s the only way further in Fenris. And the magic and any other devices in this temple will most likely only answer to magic in turn.”

“Disciples of Mythal more specifically, and most likely…” Abelas added, although there was a confliction to his tone. As if the man knew Ramia would take it upon herself to take this role.

She had become resolute in her new cause, he worried how far she would allow this role to take her. The thought of her risking injury, or worse; death in self-sacrifice or recklessness…unsettled him.

Fenris and Isabella did not seem entirely keen on unsheathing the stone blade from the stone, but made no move to argue. All of them remembering the task that brought them here. If they didn’t do this, then Solas would, and they couldn’t afford that.

“Fine just…” Fenris exhaled quietly, eyes trained on the girl before unsheathing his own blade gently. Ready for combat. “Be careful.”

Ramia nodded, everyone standing back, ready. Her mind reverted back to the incantation carved into the stone below her. Her hands taking a firm grip on the sheath of the stone sword.

**_Bear arms for the goddess_ **

She pulls, feet pressing down as she tries to lift the sword. It doesn’t remove completely, but something clicks. Holding it in place as the ground rumbles.

Lyrium spills and pours from where the sword is now loose, flowing through grooves that glow with the liquid magic. It travels, moves across the stone floor and up the stone steps to the far left and crawling up the colossal door to display Mythal’s image in a shock of blue light.

**_Only then, will your sins and struggle be washed away…and the path to glory laid bare_ **

The door opens, dust and crumbs of stone falling around it. The veilfires all around intensify and the ground shakes beneath them. With a loud pound against its walls the doors still, the lyrium beneath dims but remains an eerie afterglow along the ground between the new entrance and its guests.

All of them had been frozen the moment the lyrium flowed, breathes of relief being released when the shakes and movements around them had ceased. Isabella’s hands clapping together, breaking the silence as she stared at Ramia. Pleased.

“Well done you, thought the place was about to blow up for a second there.”

Ramia gave a shaky laugh, taking the pirates hand as she helped her down. She willed herself to stop her hand from shaking in hers. In the corner of her eye she saw Fenris’ disapproval, her posture tensing as she became defensive.

“What?”

Fenris only shook his head, his frown becoming all the sourer as he looked between Ramia and Abelas. A steely hardness came to his eyes and his entire body became rigid in the intense atmosphere.

“Do not make me regret coming down here. We are here as a team; do not play with things you do not understand on a whim like a child.”

Ramia bristled at his words, she had paved a way forward for them and to be met with his accusatory and reprimanding tone hurt her. Confused her.

“Why are you getting so annoyed about? I’ve found and opened the way forward!”

She knew better than to get defensive, but everyone was on edge. They had been since entering this part of the ruin. Anger and feeling offense were always easy emotions to fall into. Fenris looked at her as one would look at a misbehaving child, he stood straighter, addressing both Ramia and Abelas as he levelled them with warning glares.

“If we are putting ourselves on the line and aiding you, you will refrain from doing anything reckless without consulting us.” Fenris left no room for argument as he walked a few steps ahead of them. Abelas paused her attempt to say anything further to Fenris, leaving Ramia to stare up at the way forward.

Pitch black darkness greeting them from this distance, despite the lyrium. Ramia’s heartbeat sped as they continued on, knowing there was still more waiting for them.

She felt a hand at her lower back, jumping at the contact until she realised it was Abelas. Looking back where her eyes had been trained, leaning closer towards the hand on her back for comfort.

“Abelas.”

“Yes?”

“…”

“What is it Ramia?”

“I’m scared...” She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she held a death grip on her staff. Moving ever closer to Abelas when he took a hold of her free hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles. Hoping to ease her anxieties.

“I know, but you have faced danger before Ramia, you will be fine.”

“I know but…this feels different.”

Abelas had wondered when it would eventually happen. While Ramia taking over where her mother left off seemed the only viable solution, considering the Inquisitor’s imprisonment. It seemed had seemed to come from a place of desperation. As prepared and effort-made as both women were. They had been fortunate so far, but Ramia’s inexperience had begun to show.

He had traversed June’s lower catacombs and the forests in the north with her. She was unused to fighting, and her mother had placed too much responsibility in her. It was too much too soon, and while he saw Ramia making great strides in leadership, Abelas wondered how much she could be pushed. He suspected even now she wondered that herself, her fear in delving deeper into this ruin was that sign. And he was gladdened in a sense, that she did not believe the voices of the well would be complete and utter protection in this quest. That she they made her invincible.

She was adequate in battle, capable of surviving a fight. But they would need more than survivability, they needed to win. Abelas hopes that if this is truly a place dedicated to Mythal’s Knights, then perhaps they could leave here with more than just the hidden source of power kept locked away.

He sees her pupils widen, the quiet whine of the wood of her staff against a squeezing palm and pulls her face to look at him. His eyes her hard as he makes her look at him and heed him.

“You wish to save your people and your world?”

A nod is his only reply, and his grip hardens a fraction.

“Then you cannot hesitate, Solas grows more powerful, and his army grows as he makes moves both here and for the south of Thedas.”

Fenris and Isabella both come to a halt but Abelas does not heed their call. His hands moving to Ramia’s shoulders, she takes in the information with a deepening frown and eyes downcast.

“I have made my choices and have entrusted myself to this world you claim is worth saving, that you have sworn to protect.”

His words hit her, reminiscent of her mother’s parting words to her. Before she left Skyhold.

_All he knows is his duty, the path he’s walking will hit him hard and he will no doubt feel lost and dismayed. Be there for him, and don’t let him down._

She tried to push back the sharp feeling of fear that wanting to overwhelm her, because Abelas was right. She chose this, there was no doubt in her mind that if he could, Solas would have done his upmost to find a way for both her mother and herself a way to survive and join his restored world. But that was not what they wanted, and she decided to fight against him and pulled some convincing on Abelas’ part to join her.

Even if in the end the choice was his own, she was promising Abelas a life at the end of this fight. Something more than principle to fight for. Being afraid and apprehensive, when they were all wary of what was down here, of the impending war with Solas done nothing for them. Or for herself.

“I need to suck it up…” she sighed, there was no more room for doubt.

“Hm?”

“Get over it.”

“Ah…and yes, you do,” Abelas agreed. “Have faith in yourself and in us. We all have the same goal in mind, we are all protecting one another, and fear will only hold you back, and hinder your allies.” Abelas concluded before giving her face a gentle but playful slap before pushing her forward, ignoring her poor attempts to reciprocate the teasing gesture.

As they managed to catch up they passed the threshold of the large door to find themselves in another hallway. Hollow and bare of anything besides more braziers that kept it dimly lit. Their footsteps echoing, and the little harmonies expressed from the veilfires the only sounds filling the passage.

“I don’t think this place was made for visitors…” Isabella noted, pressing closer to Fenris. “I’ve seen a ruin or two in my life but never like…this…no wonder Priore and the lot never set foot here.”

“This place…feels wrong.” Fenris finished.

The lyrium marks on Fenris’ skin glowed as he caught something in the corner of his eye. All watched Fenris as his eyes trained on a creature far from reach, observing them from behind a pillar, it’s ghostly frame reminiscent of the many wisps that would leak into the world through fade rifts. But this was larger, it’s shoulders flared out in a threatening manner that had everyone’s weapons raised.

It screamed at them due to their aggressive stance, arms thrown back as it bellowed it’s screeching before retreating. It continued to scream down the hall and Abelas was the first to act. He stands at the front of the group, turning back to give orders.

“We must pursue it before more come, Isabella you will be my eyes where mine cannot be,” Isabella gave a curt nod, daggers unsheathed and ready. “Ramia covers us and take out anything that attacks from afar while Fenris guards you.”

There was an approval in Fenris as he gave a sharp grunt of understanding.

“Does everyone understand? We must be prepared for whatever waits for us, I have no doubt that was a corrupted spirit. An annoyance than any real challenge, so long as you stick to my plan.”

They were all ready to charge but there was no need, more spirits of rage and wraiths of flame took the battle to them. Their roars shook the very ground beneath them in their fury.

Abelas turned for a split moment, the seasoned battle-ready intensity in both Fenris and Isabella eyes reassured him as turned back. Sending a blast of force against the demons, staggering them for his second onslaught as he used another force of mana to push Isabella forward at an inhuman speed. Giving her the momentum to send her daggers dancing across their forms, bringing the largest of the rage spirits to its death.

Fenris was tempted by impulse to join in the fray and protect Isabella, but some may push past the fighting, and that was when he would be needed. He watched with hunched shoulders, hand gripping tightly to his sword as Isabella made quick work of them. Abelas at her back as he dispensed of the wraiths that were numerous, more irritating than anything else for the rogue.

When the last demon fell, Isabella stretched her back. A small nod and a smile greeted the others as she walked back over to join them. Abelas stood up straight, flexing his fingers and twisting around to look on Fenris and Ramia. Everyone relaxed and relieved.

Ramia was softening her own posture as well, worry had consumed her all too quickly when the threat of battle had shown. She smiled at the group, before she caught a vision at the edge of her line of sight. Eyes widened and her hands shot up as she screamed at Isabella to move, another demon creeping up on the pirate undetected.

There wasn’t enough time for warning, Ramia sends a blast of ice hurling towards the rage demon.

Fear and rushed thinking wasn’t enough to knock it down, only enough to prevent it causing Isabella any real harm and give her enough time to react and jump to safety. But the demon growled from the attack, it’s glowing eyes brightened as it locked its gaze on Ramia. Sending an attack itself hurling in her direction.

For this there was enough time to defend, Abelas had dodged the attack and called out to Fenris and Ramia. His heart hammering until he saw the ripple of ward magic. Ramia encasing herself and Fenris in a protective ward to shield against the attack.

“Good.” Fenris said, palm flat against the ward’s surface, thankful.

Ramia chuckled softly, feigning confidence. As she released the ward both she and Fenris felt the floor beneath them move, harshly enough to send them both stumbling before they stared wide eyed at each other with dread.

Cracks formed beneath them, the sound of crumbling stone thundering around them as the floor began to cave in. Fenris was quicker to action, scrambling and making for solid ground quickly, turning at the sound of Ramia’s yelp as she fell below. She had not been as lucky, as she fell together with the rubble. Her scream echoing with her descent to some unknown location below.

“Kaffas!”

Abelas’ heart was hammering as he watched, his legs moving before he could think what to do. Irritation clouding him when Fenris moved to stop him before he could dive after her, both men turning at the sound of Isabella’s own cry for help as she tackled the demon. Chaos and disorder all around them.

Fenris swore again, strapping his sword to his back and shoving Abelas back in Isabella’s direction.

“Stay with Isabella! I will find her.”

Abelas looked at him like he was daft, but another look in the pirate’s direction and he understood that if they were to split up they would need a mage between them.

“Go!” Fenris yelled one last time before making his way down, leaving Abelas and Isabella behind.

Fenris took it upon himself to search for Ramia, praying to his maker that wherever she was she had survived the fall. He pulls the bag they all kept with the supplies the raiders gave them, thankful to find rope inside. Finding some way to soften his plunge into the darkness.

He knew coming to this temple was a shit idea.

 

* * *

 

 I hope you guuys liked this chapter! I'm hoping to get started on the next one soon, in the meantime I wanted to share with you guys this picture I commissioned from [Hoskky](http://hoskky.tumblr.com/post/118049953662/heeello-there-im-updating-my-old-commission) on tumblr that I am absolutely in love with! It's Ramia and Abelas of course ^__^ and i'm so happy with how it came out!

[You guys can also check me out here](http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/), maybe you want to prompt me on something to do with Moro or Ramia? Go for it <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Solas departing for Estwatch, his daughter at his side, Moro is left to her own thoughts.
> 
> Yara pays her a visit, to understand her goals and to perhaps persuade her to end this fued between herself and Solas.

_While measures were taken to quieten down the crowds that had formed outside the gates of Skyhold, many lips were busy at the addition of wounded or grieving elves of Clan Lavellan. So very few in number, as they were ushered into the fortress by Inquisition agents._

_There would need to be time taken aside to beg forgiveness and grieve alongside with them Moro knew, but right now; selfish as it may have seemed, her focus was entirely on her daughter. Every time she turned her gaze away she feared she would turn and Ramia would be gone. That she did not truly survive and her baby was gone for good._

_Every turn back to see she was there settled her beating heart. Only to be replaced with guilt and shame at the wide-eyed look her daughter carried. The horrid events she had endured from the destruction of the clan, to her rescue and into her arms would be a scar on her mind for a long, long time._

_Another mistake piled atop so many. Moro started to wonder if there wasn’t a single life she hadn’t ruined with her existence._

_“Mama?”_

_Moro turned to see Ramia’s eyes trained on servants at the door with steaming buckets of water, she ushered them into the room, stopping them from filling the tub and asking for their disappearance. She lifted her sleeves and attended to readying a bath for Ramia herself. The sight of the now scented hot water attracted the child’s attention as she rid herself of clothing and slowly entered the tub and allowed her mother to bathe her._

_She was well past the age to need assistance, but Moro needed to do this. She needed to feel doting again, needed to just do what she should have been doing regardless of her new status as inquisitor._

_Be a mother._

_Ramia’s eyes wandered to the fireplace and she jumped, squeezing at her mother’s arm and begging her to put out the fire._

_“It will be cold love.”_

_When tears were surfacing in her child’s eyes she ran for the fire to douse it out. Feeling foolish, remembering the reports that spoke of fire that seemed to go unending in the flat lands of Wycome, where the aravels once were._

_The wounds were still fresh, both the physical and the mental. The healing herbs in the water helped subside the cuts and bruises along her daughter’s skin. The ones in her mind would take much more._

_When the fires were gone her hands are working back into her daughter’s scalp, the iron grip the girl has on the bathtub’s rim softens. Her knees are brought up to her chest, the rest of the time as Moro cleans her daughter is spent in silence. There are no words to exchange, she knows if she cries and begs her daughter’s forgiveness Ramia will feel her own small measure of guilt._

_And none of this is her fault, none of this would have happened if she refused Deshanna’s request to go to the conclave._

_She remembers putting on leathers while Ramia cries and pleads at her hip. She had bended on one knee and laid kisses and promises to her daughter’s brow as she swears she will come back. That everything will be alright and she will not be gone too long._

_But she was wrong, they are lies in Ramia’s eyes, of this she has no doubt. The conclave was destroyed, and with it any chance of her returning home. A mark on her hand and a monster keep her. Ramia did not see her mother for two years, Moro left her all alone._

_Neglected._

_Forgotten._

_“Mama.”_

_Moro had left Ramia to dry and dress herself, the girl holds a brush in hand and climbs onto the large bed beside her mother. Handing it to her so that Moro can tend to Ramia’s hair. The lack of conversation from her daughter is suffocating. This wasn’t the child she left behind, she was never quiet, never demure._

**_You destroy everything you touch._ **

_“I know Skyhold seems frightening da’vhenan, but this will be your home now. You will be safe here.”_

_Ramia only turns around, her brows knot and fear still laden in her eyes._

_“Don’t leave me again, ok?”_

_Moro pulls Ramia against her chest and lays a kiss atop her head. Her own eyes brimming with unshed tears._

_“Never again. No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”_

* * *

 

It had become very quiet the past few days after Solas’ departure, there were no lingering hawk-like stares on her every move, no companionship to be found in Laisa. Only silence. It was as if the palace had been forsaken, no sign of life to be found save for her own. That solitude took her mind to thoughts of Ramia, of how she was faring in Abelas’ care.

She had no doubts or regrets in her decision, it was both strategy and desperation. Moro knew Solas would do whatever it took to make sure Ramia was safe, regardless that she was now slowly becoming a formidable foe. That his love for the girl would make him careless, wasteful of resources and time.

But that did not mean she did not worry.

 

“Inquisitor.”

 Yara stood just outside her room, the man knew better than to enter uninvited. He stands with his staff in hand and the other held over his chest, as he usually does. He is alone, which means he is here of his own interests.

Moro stares at him blandly but her brows are furrowed at the sight of him, he waits for her answer unmoving, so she sighs and allows him entry. Watching his every move as he joins her by the seating area of her room, consisting mostly of a loveseat she fully occupies and an armchair which Yara makes himself comfortable upon. When he sits he sighs wearily, an amicable smile curves the edges of his lips slightly as he regards her. Moro for her part does not change expression, she simply stares at him.

They stay like that for a while, Moro turns her attention to reading a book on flora while Yara studies her. She probably seemed a mystery to him, the woman who stood for the elvhen people as inquisitor but now stands in their way. People had a habit of feeling there was more beneath her mask of passive indifference, Moro always thought herself a simple woman. Did not care to correct people’s assumptions or beliefs of her when they were people that did not matter.

Her beliefs, ideals and motivations were no one’s business but her own these dangerous times. If her actions did not reveal these things to people than they were simply dim.

Yara crosses a leg over the other as his eyes narrow in on Moro, fingers rub together idly.

“Why do you fight him?”

Moro sighs bluntly, closing her book shut and letting it drop loudly on the table beside them. She props her head against a clenched fist and looks at the old keeper.

“He is taking the means to restore our people’s honour and empire, a feat that will no doubt cost him greatly. Both in mind, body and spirit.”

“I am aware of his plans Yara, get to your point.”

“You once held these values, wanted us higher and better off so I had heard. Something akin to what we once were. He is going to give us that and you sabotage him at every turn…why?”

“We should not lower ourselves,” Moro claims as she stands, hands clasped together as she stalks over to the fireplace. “The Tevinter shemlen grew and prospered on the bones of our ancestors, destroying the veil in the way Solas wishes will see that history only repeated. Or worse, he may destroy the world again, and we have no way of knowing whether there will be anything left to pick up the pieces. That is not what I want.”

Yara gives a long drawn out sigh, because there is merit in her words. But his desires to restore Elvhenan outweigh her truth and so he will question and prod still.

“You are in a better position than most, Lavellan.”

“And why is that Keeper?”

“He foolishly searches for a means to save you, and that meddlesome daughter of yours.”

“Which one? I have two,” Moro jests, rolling her eyes when she sees Yara’s stern look. “Solas had no interest in saving me until he learnt of Laisa’s existence, he removed the anchor and left me and my first born to our own devices. It’s hardly my fault if I decided to use those devices to slap some sense into him, with help of course.”

“Ah yes, Ramia is her name yes? A child from a previous lover of yours?”

Moro’s smile was as warm and welcoming as a snake, her attention fully on Yara as she leaned against the mantle of the fireplace. Eyes honing in on the elder.

“I’d be very careful with your next choice of words Yara.”

“No need for such threats my dear,” Yara says. “On the contrary, there is a lot to admire of the girl. She has taken well to your burdens.”

“I do not pass them to her lightly,” Moro quickly interjects, defensively. “Solas could grant me immortality and it would still not be enough time to make up for everything I have done to her.”

There’s a smirk on Yara’s lips at that, but a level of disgust there as well, Moro’s eyebrow quirks as she waits for whatever words Yara has ready, arms folded in front of her. Yara for his part simply stares at a ring on his finger, seemingly uninterested.

“I doubt her time has not been completely arduous…not with Abelas at her side.” He regards Moro again, and his lips are curled into a condescending smirk. “Tell me Lavellan, was whoring your daughter to one of Solas’ strongest allies a part of the plan or did she teach herself that little trick.”

He doesn’t expect the burst of laughter from Moro.

“What’s wrong Keeper? Angry that it worked? Ah well…I suppose it’s easier to claim Abelas seduced than to admit his loyalty was fractured long before he had even met my daughter.” Moro laughs again, dirty and arrogant in its tone as she takes large strides back to the loveseat. “While I have a gift for bearing beautiful daughters, charming a man like Abelas would not be one of Ramia’s strong suits.”

Moro’s mind lingers on that information, of Ramia and Abelas’ relationship. She could understand Ramia being charmed and being quick to fall for a man like that. It was Abelas she questioned, why he would betray Solas, his people for it. She hoped it was genuine, gods help the man if he wasn’t.

“Unfortunately I think whatever this relationship of theirs is, it is genuine. I like it no better than you or anyone else, but it is not my place to interfere.”

“You are her mother.”

“I am, and it is still not my place. She could do worse, after all.” There is a condescending lilt to her tone, rubbing salt into the wound of Abelas’ betrayal. Yes, Moro was not entirely happy with Ramia’s taste in men, but she was not one to talk and it seemed to be potential of some measure of happiness for the girl. So she would allow it.

For now, that is.

Yara had finally surmised that there would be no getting through to the woman, determined to continue standing in Solas’ way, even in comfort. He rises from his seat and grabs his staff, slowly coming to stand before Moro. She feels the shift in his body language and refuses to look at him, eyes casting a side-long glance when Yara grabs a hold of her hand in a pleading gesture.

“End this madness girl, if not for yourself then for your children,” He speaks in sharp whispers, hand squeezing her own for measure. “Give them some measure of peace, give your man some measure of peace.”

“Everything Solas now endures is of his own doing.”

“Your quarrels fool no one Lavellan…”

Moro is unmoving, she says nothing and does nothing.

“You love him…”

“And that is why I will stop him…” She says after a long drawn sigh.

“One-word girl,” Yara insists, his hand squeezing tighter on her own. “I can have agents there within moments with your offer of peace, end this now before harm can come to Ramia. Before she digs herself too deep, the war with the humans is drawing near…”

He feels her pull her hand away and so he lets Moro go, disappointed as he makes his way to leave, until he hears her call his name. Her eyes are still staring into the fire, but there is a vulnerability in her now and hesitance in her speech.

“What does Solas intend to do when he reaches Estwatch?” Moro asks, looking up to face the old man, she feels a heaviness in her gut when she asks. The sensation only heightened at the grim look in Yara’s eyes.

“One last attempt to reason with your daughter,” He confesses, there is no point in lying to the woman. “If she still refuses to listen to reason, he will bring her back by force. He does not do this lightly, but he has refused to accept her as his enemy. She will be brought to heel.”

“I see…”

“Be grateful, he allows too many offences because of his love for you both.”

 

 

* * *

[Find me on tumblr](mindtrove.tumblr.com)

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is seperated, and trying to stick to the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I'll be heading back out to Uni soon but i want to try my best to update as much and as often as I can!

The last of the demons went down after what had felt like hours. With Ramia somewhere down in the dark trenches of this ruin it would seem to feel that way to Abelas. She was off god knows where while he was stuck killing corrupted spirits. Creatures that should have been simple to dispose of but where too numerous. If Isabella had not been there to help, he would have been stuck even longer.

“I think that’s the last of them, I hope.” The pirate speaks in puffed breaths. Sheathing her blades and groaning through stretches.

Isabella’s breathing is slightly laboured, and when Abelas walks up to her to see any lingering damage from the fight she waves him off with a smile and a wink.

“Don’t worry darling I’ll be fine, just not as cut out for this sort of thing as I used to be,” She says, and she gives one last crack of her knuckles before turning to face him proper. “As much as I would love to jump down after them, I feel like we should see what’s further ahead.” She claims as much as her eyes divert to the large crater-like hole created from the rage demons attack. A grim look shared between them, they needed to decide on their next course of action.

“You are right,” Abelas spoke begrudgingly, walking a few steps ahead of her. “Time is of the essence, and we may find a better way down than Ramia and Fenris have.”

“I hope they’re alright…” Isabella worries, but they both know she worries more for Ramia than she does Fenris. The girl had been of two extremes since arriving in Estwatch, which was to be bold to the point of nonchalance or frightened. He was not surprised the woman would become protective over her.

“We must rely on your man; trouble is usually not far when Ramia is on her own.”

“My man…? Oh, you mean Fenris? Yes, I suppose you’re right about that.” Isabella agrees, the long corridor’s silence made even the tiniest of spoken words seem booming in volume. And the last thing she wanted, what either of them wanted was to draw any more attention.

“I heard from Varric that the Inquisitor was quite the stoic woman, always keeping things under control, I’m surprised Ramia didn’t pick any of that up.” She jests, walking ahead of the sentinel.

Abelas smiles to himself. He had met both, and they couldn’t be more different he had learnt. They had that similar aggression, an heir of authority to them that demanded the command of those around them. But Ramia was much softer, hastier in her emotions.

“When I had first met Ramia, I could not stand her,” Abelas started. “I found her childish, obnoxious…and loud.”

“But she grew on you like a rash?” Isabella chimes in with a grin, he could see the amusement in her eyes as she put the pieces together of how they had come to be as they were now.

Ramia had, Abelas silently agreed. Perhaps a rash wouldn’t be the term he would use to describe her, but yes. Their time together, when they could pretend they were not fighting a war was an educational journey for them both. Time that brought them closer together.

He saw a woman who was still loud, still abrasive and quick and expounding in her feelings. However, he saw bravery there as well, fighting despite every moment filled with fear. Honest with him, in every sense of the word, which he cherished.

He did not want harm to come to her, a feeling of dread churning in his stomach at the thought of it. He…cared, about Ramia greatly, but seeing to her safety required them to stay focused and keep moving. No good could come from a clouded mind.

Luckily it hadn’t taken them long before they came across a dead end. Another emblem depicting Mythal laid across the ground, colossal in size. Making both Isabella and Abelas seem miniscule when scaled against it. Isabella gives it a few taps with her boot before looking to Abelas for guidance. With a curt nod the sentinel approaches, placing a hand on the pirate’s shoulder as a gesture to step back.

Abelas bends on one knee and places both hands upon the emblem, feeling small waves of vibration through the plating. Feels it call for familiar magic, and he obliges. Letting his magic pour through it’s cracks, where they remain and illuminate his goddess’ visage. The room lights up in a golden escapade of colour before dissipating once again. The plated floor below them jerking in response.

Isabella immediately jumps to his side as the floor below them descends, slow but evenly as they journey below.

“It would seem we are making progress, let us hope wherever this leads…we will find the others as well.”

* * *

 

Fenris cursed loudly, angrily, because wherever he had landed wasn’t where Ramia had landed. He knew for certain there would be no chance her landing would leave her unscathed, and from where he was, there was no signs of a fall, blood, or anything to indicate life down here.

Particularly because he had also landed somewhere that was not meant to be a room. Maybe at one point in time it was, but no longer. He reached a hand out to feel for a wall, anything in the pitch black darkness. Eventually his palm went flat against a stone surface, using the lyrium in his veins to become see-through and hopefully walk past. With a praise to his maker he ventured past the wall and managed to find his way into another corridor, the same as every other one before.

Fenris groaned aloud as he stared ahead at the path that seemed unending, sheathing his blade and setting a fast paced walk as he toiled on ahead. Unsure where exactly he was heading, or what to look for. Finding whatever ‘big secret’ lied in this ruin was for Isabella and Abelas to worry about he concluded. Fenris wanted to focus on finding that clumsy girl and drag her back to the others before she did something stupid, or worse, fatal. He hoped all she’d encounter or attract would be demons.

He was certain Ramia could handle a demon or two. That’s all there seemed to be in this forsaken ruin.

Just simple, predictable, simple-to-kill…demons.

 

* * *

 

Darkness.

That was all that greeted her when the heart hammering plummet down in the depths of these ruins had ended, she was lying face up on the ground when consciousness finally came to her. She had managed at some point, to use a barrier to stop the fatal collide that could have ended her life, but the last dregs of the fall took her by surprise.

Her pained whimpers echoed, raising her hand to her temple to feel a wetness there, most likely her own blood. She reached out in the dark, her hand gripping wood before it reacted to her magic and she was relieved to realise it was her staff. The crystal point glowing and giving some measure of light, but not enough rid her of any unease to her surroundings.

When she tried to rise she cried out in pain, as a sharp stabbing sensation from her ankle all the way up her leg pierced her. Causing her to stumble back down immediately, weakly moving her staff to shed light on her leg. And as she worriedly expected, the entire expanse surrounding her ankle was swollen and bruised. Most likely sprained from the fall.

“Shit…” Ramia cursed, taking a deep breath.

She did not have much mana to spare, not in her weakened state. More inspection found a tear in her side that bled from some of rocks she had landed on. Which when she looked up were rather sharp. While she did not want to waste her mana, she needed to heal herself. A closer look to her side showed the wound wasn’t bad enough that it needed healing, so her ankle took priority.

_Remember what they taught you_ Ramia quoted to herself. Focusing to the short-lived lessons given to her on healing spells. A soft green glow emitting from her hand as a sharp cold sensation swam across the beaten skin. Not as pleasant as she had expected healing magic to feel.

Applying a bit of pressure on her foot, Ramia sighed with relief when she found enough strength to stand, her ankle not straining as much under her weight as before. She wipes with her sleeve at her temple and indeed, the wetness was of blood. She winces when she touches her temple, no doubt a lump would slowly form as time went, as well as a cut forming on her lower lip. Unable to stop herself from pestering the wound with her tongue and sucking it into her mouth. Both helping and making it worse.

She hears the echoes of pebbles and dust from above, and decided to venture away before the ceiling’s temptation to crumble upon itself occurs. But, when she looked out ahead of her, her staff barely lights the path, and her heart beat paces faster. A low hum whispers in the back of her skull in the deafening silence, the only physical sound is her own heavy breathing. It grips at her, this unshakable fear of the unknown. The hand that clutches her staff twitches, and she holds that hand with the other in a desperate attempt to still it.

She was alone, wounded, and could see nothing. The darkness felt like coils on the edge of her vision, spreading and tugging at her until she shut her eyes tight and mentally screams. Her mana bursting forth. And for a moment, just a few, she saw the path. It was empty, void of any life or sign of it.

It placated her, if only for a fraction. Enough for her to journey forth and find a path to her destination. The voices of the well were quiet, reluctantly so, she feels it in the front of her mind. That they wished to speak but dared not to, and this is what kept her fear at the forefront of her mind.

Because there is something here, something they did not want to find her. Which meant, it could kill her.

The voices say one thing to her at least before going silent completely, and that is to snuff out the light, even from her staff. And in this moment she wonders how her mother excelled in this form of combat, melding in shadows and striking from the dark. Her mother was never afraid, and she wished more than anything that she was here now.

Her steps were extremely slow and measured, afraid of tripping, or setting off some kind of ward or spell or trap. Eventually the air felt less, less restricting, less suffocating and Ramia could only assume she had been walking through a passageway so extremely narrow to have created such a feeling around her. And that she now stood in a much larger and opened space.

If it could get any quieter, Ramia could have believed it so. Something in her gut made her still her breathing, clamp a hand over mouth when she heard a shuffle. Like a heavy rug being dragged across the ground.

Perspiration grew and dripped from her brow at the sudden rise in temperature. Was it temperature exactly? Or something else…?

She heard the dragging again.

She spins around to where she thinks she had heard it, but there is only darkness and it makes her want to cry out in frustration at the sack of sight. The darkness permeates the air, mingling with heat and slow movements. Ramia takes cautious steps backwards, back…and back…and back-until.

The heat builds doubly in seconds, and radiates over her back. Coupled with another sound she wishes she could not hear, because there is no doubt to what she recognises the sound to be.

Breathing.

It is low in pitch, gravelly and like the sound of a cat’s purr but worse. It filled her eardrums and vibrated through her body, made her shake and shiver.

She creates a small blue flame, a tiny little thing that only shines whatever is in front of her. She shifts the top half of her body, to see what it might be behind her. Clamping a hand over her mouth swiftly, tears rolling down her cheeks as she puffs harsh breaths against her palm. Tries with futility to calm herself.

Eyes close shut to remove the image of scales that rise and fall with the loud breathing.

The flame in her hand extinguishes, her face buried in her hands as she tries to hold back her tears but fails. They glide down her cheeks and she has to bite her lip to hold back her cries. Hoping the creature cannot hear her shuddering breaths. When she looks back out into the darkness she sees it, incredibly small, which means it was far away but it was there.

A door lightened by fire, a way out.

Ramia renews the grip on her staff, and she knows she will need fire to light her path, lest she step on the wrong crack or worse, the creature. She inhales, lights fire in her hand and foolishly turns around at the sound of a slow rumble.

Her lip quivers, her leg muscles jerk and eyes blown wide open at the sight of endless blackness.

Before it shrinks. Constricts into a slit line accompanied by the sound a low guttural growl that shoot warning bells from her toes to the roots of her hair.

She sees teeth.

The fire goes out.

There’s the heavy crashing thud of mass applying pressure on the ground, like thunder in stone.

But it is not as loud as her screams.

**Run.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds Ramia
> 
> He get's more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit? I haven't updated in ages! I'm so sorry guys >_

When Fenris got his hands on Ramia he was going to give her a good slap across the head. He had been trekking for what felt like an eternity in this corridor that seemed unending, it was becoming tiresome. Everything seemed to blend together, made his mind dull in the mundaneness of it all.

Suddenly however, he was on high alert, when he heard the sound of…thunder?

No, it sounded thunderous certainly, but it was more than likely a crash. A heavy one, making his hairs stand on end. It was incredibly loud even from this distance, and it irked him that he couldn’t put his mind on what it could be.

When the sound seemed to stop another took its place, low at first but clearly high in tone. Fenris stared off into the far end of the hall, knees bent and posture rigid as he waited for an attack. A small spot appearing in the end of his line of vision.

Slowly it got bigger, and bigger. And with it, the source of the high pitched noise. Which had turned out to be screaming. Soon features could be made out, wild curls thrown back at the ferocity of their running. A staff in hand whipped back and forth and the scream left no room for doubt on who it was.

He had found Ramia, or more appropriately, she had found him. Running straight for him and screaming in utter terror, eyes blown wide as she ran faster than he had ever seen the girl run before.

“Ramia…?”

Eventually she caught up with him, but she did not seem to notice him. In fact, she had collided quite harshly against him, which caught him off guard. The same couldn’t be said for Ramia as she seemed undeterred, continuing to scream bloody murder as she ran down the hall. Completely ignoring him as she continued to run and scream bloody murder.

Fenris only watched with irritation and confusion.

“What in the maker is she…?”

Another loud thud collided with the ground that sent Fenris still, the gravity of it having shook the ground this time. He slowly turns in the direction Ramia had been running from, suddenly mirroring the panic the girl’s own face had taken.

He sees the dragon overhead; it roars as spurts of fire escape its jaws before it continues its pursuit. Now with two prizes in its sight.

It didn’t take long for Fenris to catch up to Ramia, as uncharacteristically fast as she had been the girl was still rather slow. In fact, it was a mystery to the elf that she had even managed to outrun the beast so far. So by the time he caught up he was grabbing the scruff of her shirt and pulling her faster, ignoring her yelling and dragging them behind a pillar and out of sight. At least for now.

Ramia’s breathing was harsh as she turned with gratitude towards Fenris, but was immediately on edge at the harsh glare he sent her way.

“What?!” She whispered harshly.

“A dragon?! Do you just attract bad luck everywhere you go?!”

Both of them flinched at the low roar that interrupted then, scurrying further into the corner they had backed themselves in. Ramia didn’t seem interested in starting an argument, and at the terrible sight of her, all bruised and battered, Fenris wasn’t surprised when she simply held onto him. Her hands digging into his arm as she huddled close.

“What are we going to do?” She whimpers, her eyes shining with new tears that threatened to burst through. His anger faded slightly as he laid a hand and ran it up and down her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“I’ve fought a dragon before…once, so we might be fine.”

“Was it as big as this one?”

“No…”

Ramia looked down at her hands, jumping again as the ground shook with the dragon’s steps.

“We have to kill it Ramia.”

“I know…”

“Do you have enough mana?”

Ramia is hesitant but eventually admits with a no, shrugging her head. Instead of cursing, Fenris is fishing through his belongings. Producing a small blue vial and handing it to the girl, Ramia recognises them as her own and is quick to grab it. A gentle squeeze to the older elf’s knee in thanks as she downs the liquid, already feeling a coil inside her loosen as threads of magic course through her body.

“So what are we going to do?”

Fenris takes a quick look at their surroundings. Further in the distance there is an archway, not big enough for the dragon but with a few barges it would pass through. The room further however, seemed larger in size and safer for a battleground than this hallway.

He had fought dragons before, knew where to hit them, as long as they could stay level headed and concentrate they could win this.

But there in lied the issue.

Fenris draws his gaze across to Ramia, the girl still shaky and fearful at anticipated discovery. He grabs her by both her shoulders and demands her attention.

“If we have any chance of killing this dragon you need to remain calm and do as I say Ramia,” Fenris whispers, grabbing her face when another roar shatters her concentration. “Do you understand? We need to get to the end of this corridor, over there.”

Ramia nods, swallows a lump in her throat and holds her staff up, her eyes darting to some rock formations within the ceiling.

“I can use some magic to knock down some of the ceiling…it could distract it and give us more time to get there...”

Fenris nods, gives a small smile and readying them to move. Ramia channels her mana and sends a bolt of electricity, the ceiling coming down more than either expected. They ran regardless when they heard the dragon yelp from surprise and pain, running at full speed. Fenris yells at Ramia and grabs her hand before she can be tempted to look back.

The sound of rubble crashing to the ground and another shrieking cry from the beast sends them running even faster.

When they reach the next room it is just as empty as any other they have found themselves in. Only open archways dot three of the four walls, but their discovery is interrupted when they turn to find the dragon has caught up with them.

The creature’s claws stretch out and scratch against the stone floor, wings outstretched in some show of intimidation, it huffs hot air from its nostrils and the heat of it licks at the edges of them. It is all consuming, already sweat gathers at their brows as they watch the dragon’s every move.

Within seconds Fenris is shoving Ramia to the side as he jumps in the opposite direction. She falls to the ground and twists her face upwards, looking to see a wall of flame that surrounds her vision, but vanishes immediately. The dragon having hurled a blast of fire that had almost seared them.

Before the dragon can attack again it is distracted by a rock to its face, Fenris yelling at it and trying to draw its attention away from Ramia.

Fenris doesn’t notice the tail that sweeps him off his feet, his blade drawn haphazardly but the beast doesn’t care as it dives face first at him. He fully expects to come in contact with large fangs but all he hears is a large feral growl, and when he looks up a barrier is around him.

Across the chamber he sees a small victorious glint in Ramia’s eye as her hands glow and remain so, her concentration and constant mana the only thing keeping the barrier up and strong enough to thwart the dragon’s attack.

The dragon itself seems greatly displeased. It claws and bashes against the ward with a ferocity that despite the protection of the barrier, Fenris flinches at every attack. It bites and breathes its fire but nothing will break it, when he looks to Ramia again her eyes are closed tight and her feet and shoulders square as she pushes the barrier up in a blinding light that both surprises and harms the dragon.

It gives Fenris the opportunity he needs, running at full speed and raising his sword to run a clean thorough slice through the dragon’s underbelly. The creature howls in pain, swiping at the ground and backing itself into the other side of the room where it collides into the wall.

It’s at that moment Ramia looks up and sees that it has pushed harshly enough against a pillar that it seems loosened against the wall. An idea forming in her mind as she runs towards Fenris.

“Fenris!”

“Get back!”

Ramia ignores him, rummaging for another lyrium vial and downing it. Fenris ignores her and attempts to attack the dragon again. Grumbling when a hand pulls at his shoulder to stop him.

“We can’t kill it with our own hands, not with only two of us.” Ramia explains.

“So what do you suppose we do?! It’s going to come straight for us!”

“We need to use the environment against it,” She grabs his arm again when he attempts to go after the dragon again. “Let it come to us! Trust me.”

Fenris grit his teeth, as he saw the earnest look in Ramia’s eyes, his instincts told him to push her aside and find some way to deal with the dragon. But he also knew it was foolish to try and attack it one-on-one, not even in his days with Hawke was that possible. His gaze reverted back to the dragon and the small pieces of debris that fell around it as she was readying to attack them again. He looked up, and finally understood what it was Ramia was hinting at as he saw the pillar that was slowly becoming looser and looser from the wall. He looked back to the her and saw electricity spark at her finger tips, her eyes trained on the dragon, waiting for it to come after them again.

“Agitate it, make it angry.” Fenris muttered.

“What?”

“If we look frightened it’s more likely to attack from afar, make it angry and it will charge at us.”

Ramia used her electricity to scatter across the ground and nick at its feet, and like Fenris said the dragon grew irritable at the insult. Hissing and growling at them as it got ready to pounce.

“Steady…” Fenris calmed with a hand on Ramia’s shoulder, when her immediate knee-jerk reaction was to flee. Lifting her elbow to aim for the pillar, making sure to avoid contact with her staff as magic poured forth.

When the dragon finally began to charge, Ramia sent a bolt of lightning at the pillars base, the entire column collapsing forward and slamming down on the colossal creature in time before it could reach them. The force of the it knocking both Fenris and Ramia off their feet.

All at once the echoes of the collision rang within the chamber, and when the dust settled in laid there dead. The dragon silent and unable to survive the harsh impact of large stone to its skull.

Fenris was a cautious man however, and despite protests, climbed atop the dragon to plunge his sword through its eye. Ramia winced at the roughness he delivered the final blow, unable to fully watch.

“It will be dead for certain now.” He explained before climbing back down and checking on Ramia. Grimacing at her bruised and battered face and body.

“If the others ask this all came from the dragon and _not_ from falling down a hole.”

Fenris chuckled, which was short lived when they could hear footsteps in the distance. Pushing Ramia behind him and readying his sword for battle again.

Relief and surprise lights their faces when they see Isabella and Abelas run into the room, both of their eyes landing on the dead dragon beside them. Mouths agape in shock.

“Maker’s balls! A dragon?!” Isabella yells running over to Fenris and Ramia both, arms wrapping around Fenris as she holds him. Fenris groans slightly at the sudden embrace, not realising the strain hidden during the adrenaline of their fight, but he takes it in stride, an arm wrapping around the pirate’s waist and pulling her closer.

“How did you two manage that then?” Isabella asks.

“Long story…” Fenris sighs, ignoring Isabella’s annoyed and curious glare.

Ramia laughs softly at them, jumping slightly when Abelas turns up behind her, his hands immediately on her face as he lifts. Brows furrowed but worry etched on his features as he looks over her bruises and cuts.

She tries to speak up but Abelas hushes her, she feels the cold glow of healing again as he gets to work on her wounds. When he is done his hands squeeze softly at her cheeks, and a rush of guilt falls on Ramia for making him worry.

_Causing him stress and doubt seems to be all she’s good at. Ramia knows better than to think like that, but the words creep in her mind regardless._

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, even though he is already looking to the gash in her side. Blood dried and ceasing to seep but still could become nasty if un-attended.

“I’m sorry…”

“None of us could have predicted what had happened,” Abelas comforts after healing the last of her wounds. A tiny curve to his lips as he pinches her cheek, before giving it a light tap. “You get an excuse today.”

Ramia can’t help but return the smile, burying her face just below his chest. Burrowing deeper when she feels Abelas’ hands immediately come around her, one hand running across her head. He looks up to the now dead dragon, completely and utterly surprised the two were able to take it on alone.

“Mythal must have valued this place greatly to keep a guardian watching over it…that you and Fenris would defeat it alone is hard to believe.”

Abelas finds himself pained more and more every time he comes to Ramia’s rescue. The fearful sharpness in his chest whenever death or danger rears on her doorstep growing stronger.

He keeps telling himself it a foolish thing, sharing of himself, taking her when privacy can be found. While she seems to embrace what grows between them he is always emotionally keeping his guard up, but he is starting to wonder how much longer he can deny his feelings.

“Abelas? What’s wrong?”

The sentinel releases his hold on her immediately when she sees her curiosity that fringes on concern. Always curious, always prodding less than she desires to. He can tell she is afraid of scaring him away with her forwardness. She holds back just as much as he does, only their reasons differ.

But that is a conversation for another time.

“I am simply curious how you managed to run away from a dragon, from the looks of it, it was not found in this room.”

Ramia is reminded of her initial encounter, she recalls never having run for her life the way she had in that moment. She opens her mouth to speak but Abelas speaks more.

“To think I missed out the once in a lifetime chance to see you run consistently for more than a few seconds.”

Ramia’s eyes widen at the light hearted insult, mouth opened wide as she tries to shove Abelas away. Kissing her teeth at the self-satisfied grin that stretches his face.

Abelas’ attention now draws to their companions who stand ready for their next move, so he reluctantly ceases his teasing and brings them all to a lone door before them.

It is the largest they have seen so far, the elvhen writing written into the stone faded by time. All four of them approach, pausing when the thrum of magic halted them. Not by force but by the entirely all too foreign current of it, unknown to them all except the sentinel.

His steps never slow as he traces fingertips across the writing. Abelas is overwhelmed by the magic, the same accent to it that was found in the Well of Sorrows. Mythal’s influence was alive and well here, another place lost to time but still standing.

It draws a heavy breath from his lungs, the comfort interrupted by the feel of small fingers delicately placed atop his forearm.

Ramia stands by him, and he thinks for a moment she wishes to speak to him but her eyes are fixed upon the words on the wall. Her hand pushing away his own to see the words he had been obscuring.

“They are too faded for me to understand, I cannot…”

_“Here we sleep_

_Here we wait_

_When the All-Mother calls us back_

_We will rise_

_We will fight_

_Here the ‘knights of Mythal’ lay until the call to arms releases us”_

There is an almost monotone drawl to the way she recites the words, but they make him stand at attention all the same. There is no doubt the well speaks the words to her and they have always held unquestionable truth.  Ramia’s eyes that were once glazed return to that brightened curiosity, mixed with a small twinge of apprehension.

She looks up towards him, looking to Abelas for answers.

“It is not what I had expected to find but, it is not an opportunity to pass away.” He says with clear intention.

“Knights of Mythal? They’re here? Is it safe to wake them?”

“We have no choice,” Fenris intervenes, he looks earnest. Him more than anyone else here wanting to leave this place for good. “Whatever these knights are that means an army, one that can be used against this Fen’harel.”

Abelas nods to the elf, confirming his train of thought.

“I doubt it’s going to be as simple as walking in and going wakey wakey!” Isabella chimes in, “For all we know they might end up like nearly everything else in here and attack on sight.”

This draws Abelas’ attention back to Ramia, her gazed fixed to the floor in thought. He places two fingers under her chin as he bends on one knee to level with her. He sees the doubt and worry in her eyes, sees her hands tremble and almost wants to laugh. That despite fighting a dragon, despite everything she has done she still manages to be afraid. It makes his desire to protect her ever stronger as he presses a small chaste kiss to the corner of her lips. A hand placed on her shoulder firmly.

“I am here with you Ramia, I won’t let anything happen to you, you are safe with me,” Ramia nods despite avoiding eye-contact, “but this must be done, this is what you wanted yes? More leverage and advantage in the fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Then open the doors,” he tells her before pressing another kiss higher against her cheek. Such simple gestures so easy to lighten her mood and give her strength. “We will wake the knights and you shall call them into your service.”

“Will they even listen to me?”

“More so than they would the Dread Wolf, many still hold contempt for his creation of the veil, I have no doubts my higher brethren are among them, if they have been waiting here for Mythal herself…then they do not know of her death…it makes me wonder whether she had anticipated her demise…”

Ramia ponders his words as she slowly approaches the door, while Abelas takes a step back, standing with Fenris and Isabella. The shorter elf regards him with a stony expression.

“She’s not suited to leadership.”

“No, not yet.”

“Will she ever? Was it even wise to give her this well’s power?”

Abelas is silent. When Moro had approached him that time ago with her plan, he knew it came from a place of desperation. Could she be blamed? Trapped in Solas’ web, her daughter alone and determined to carry out her will.

There was also the fact that Solas was growing stronger. Abelas knew it, and perhaps Moro knew it as well. His power was growing and every moment was time that could be utilised or wasted. The inquisitor made a desperate move, and in his own part he made such a decision possible. Placing the task and responsibility of saving Thedas on Ramia’s shoulders.

Ramia was not a leader, but she could be made into one given enough guidance and willingness to rise above her capabilities. The potential was there, and Abelas wanted to see it done.

“I will make sure of it.”

* * *

 

There are tombs.

As far as the eye can see, large sarcophaguses in rows that stretch on and on. Unlike the room before them there is no fire, nothing to light the path as they rely on their own magic to see though the darkness. The silence here is different to any they have felt before now, a low hum plays in the back of their minds, Fenris, Isabella and Ramia are all confused and unsettled.

When they turn to seek Abelas he is on his knees, reverent and stirred deeply. The tombs have been untouched by the ages, the emblem that marks each stone still fresh. The sentinel is almost reluctant to touch it’s golden plating.

To now know for certain that his goddess’ knight lay here, that they had survived the destruction of their world and waited all these centuries as he and many others had brought a sense of joy from him. That the greatest warriors of his time still live, that they could awaken them is so much for his heart to bear.

All at once however, that sense of ease is replaced with suspicion, his eyes shoot straight ahead and he is on his feet and beside the others. Fenris jumps at attention, mimicking Abelas’ battle-ready stance.

Before anyone can question them they hear the screeching of nails upon stone, the hissing of breath that is animalistic and sets their hearts beating faster. Abelas sees glyphs upon the floor, and uses his magic to set them aflame to reveal the presence in the darkness.

It is a disfigured creature, tall and imposing with its monstrous face crowned by thick spider-like legs. It seems unfazed by its reveal, it’s very presence sending a chill down their spines. Abelas’ lips curl at the sight of it, regret and sadness in his gaze as he looks more on the creature out of pity than anything else.

“Fear.”

It seems to sigh at the mention of it’s being, floating closer to them, it’s nails continuing to scrape the tombs as it regards its guests. It seems to relish in Abelas’ anger at its defilement in touching the tombs.

Abelas speaks gravelly, “you are meant to be the best of us below the gods, and you have led yourself astray…”

The fear demon screeches in anger at his words, it screams the ancient tongue and Abelas listens, his sneer only deepening as it spits and curses at him. Its body convulses in its rage, as it stares down at the sentinel before it.

_“WE WAITED!_

_MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS SLEPT WHILE I GAURDED THEM AND WATCHED THE WORLD BECOME A FOREIGN HORROR!_

_THE ALL-MOTHER PROMISED HER RETURN AND WE HAVE BEEN MET WITH ONLY SILENCE!_

_I WAITED!_

_I WATCHED!_

_DOWN IN THE DARK CENTURY AFTER CENTURY!”_

“You lost your faith, you feared no one would ever come.”

Abelas says it matter-of-factly, there is no doubt in his mind what happened to this knight. That without the peace Uthenera brings his task had driven him mad, time brought doubt and that doubt became fear.

He became fear.

“Abelas.”

Abelas tears his eyes from the creature to look down at Ramia, he expects her to be afraid but he surmises she understood what the spirit said.

“Can we help them?”

Abelas almost wants to scoff at the naivety of her question. He did not know this creature; the man or woman it was before it became this sorry thing it is now. Perhaps someone with greater ability than him could save them, but Abelas holds no such power. Ramia sees it in the tightness of his balled fist. There is a quiet anger, born from lack of strength to change that which you want. Abelas cannot heal them, all they can do is grant the spirit death. Remove the fear that clings to it’s being and hope some shred of the elvhen it was once before still lingers.

The others, Fenris, and Isabella, as well as Ramia make no move to join Abelas as he approaches the creature. It was not their place; the solemn stride the sentinel makes towards it is almost ritualistic. Careful and deliberate, and so they dared not to intervene.

Despite the ferocity of the spirit, it is weak, and it takes little effort for Abelas to subdue it and end its life. It goes in a blinding flash of light before dissipating, a lone pendant all that is left behind.

Abelas kneels upon the ground, his hands reaching out before he stops himself.

He seems reluctant to touch, but after a small mental debate he reaches forth and takes the amulet in-hand. Holds it close and mutters a prayer, the words fall clumsily from his lips and he tries to compose himself.

“I’m sorry Abelas…” Ramia speaks meekly, hesitant to approach.

Abelas wants to speak, for a moment the part of him that felt alien to this world wanted to fight back, tell her she wasn’t sorry. That she couldn’t possibly understand that pain and gravity of his decision. To slay a knight…to kill one of his own…

“It is fine…”

It isn’t, this warrior was one of many lost. He is reminded again of all those he has seen die or be led astray, reminded of the many more to come. But he cannot waiver, Abelas had made his choice, and he will press on.

“It isn’t fine.”

She says it with more fervour than her previous words, and Abelas can feel her over him. Feels arms wrap around his head to pull him under chin, her hair acting as a curtain, shielding him. It is warming, and comforting. He leans into Ramia’s embrace and pulls in and releases a long shuddering sigh. He does it repeatedly, until his breathing is slow and even, her lips pressing to his hair. Even if they can only afford a few moments for this, he savours every second.

When Ramia releases him he stops her from rising away pulls her back to meet his gaze. A tugging warmth pulling at his heart when he sees the perplexed look. He wants to commit the kindness on her face to memory, to still her entire visage itself.

Ramia had become a friend to him, quiet laughter and stories shared, intimacies explored. This heat though, this had only been a recent thing. Unable to think of his future where she wasn’t in it. Or more, he didn’t want to imagine it, and a small part of him worried what that might mean.

“What now?”

Both Ramia and Abelas jump at Isabella’s question, their minds returning to the task at hand as their companions stare ahead. Abelas mentally chastises himself for however many times he has done such musing while in company, but he leaves those thoughts for another time as he follows Fenris and Isabella’s line of sight.

A lone tomb rests alone, placed higher above the others. Ramia’s feet are moving before her mind tells her anything. Approaching the large stone, words echo in her mind. To lay her hands upon it, and when she does the words spill forth on their own. An incantation, a call to awaken the soul that sleeps inside.

The lid of the stone tomb flies open, a flash of blinding light that refuses to cease obliterates the darkness and all four of them fall to their knees at the burst of magic and light that spread out through and past them. Ramia’s arm flies up to shield her eyes. When she forces them to adjust she gasps at the sight before her.

A giant of a woman stands before her, every inch of her robust frame is covered in blinding gold armour, save for a sole piece of white cloth that hangs from the front of her waist. The symbol of the Knights of Mythal stitched into its seams. Her braided hair is held back by metal that acts as a golden halo atop her head, and her vallaslin, that reaches from forehead to chin denotes her allegiance to Mythal. It sits in stark contrast to her dark skin, eyes ablaze and alert, immediately taking it the surroundings despite millennials in slumber.

Ramia is speechless at the sight before her, and she truly understands now the reason for the awe and inspired way Abelas spoke of Mythal’s knights. The woman before her is thrice the size of any ancient elf she has seen before, making Abelas’ stature pale in comparison. There is an awe of brilliance as well as raw power that swims around her very being.

Her heart skips a beat when the Knight’s eyes land on her, they widen a fraction and the thin line of her lips curl downwards at the sight of Ramia.

 “ _You are not the All-Mother_.”

It is a declaration, her voice echoes through the chamber and Ramia can hear the tone of insult in her voice. The knight is angered at being awakened, at being summoned by anyone else other than her chosen goddess.

“I…I…” Ramia chokes on her words, the very essence of the woman’s magic pushes down on her like a great weight. The knight could destroy her within the blink of an eye, she has no doubt of that.

“ _SILENCE!”_ She roars.

Ramia bites back any other words she wished to speak, swiftly turning to the others behind her, as she looks for support.

Abelas kneels, bowing in reverence and respect, hood pulled back and face hidden as he looks down to the ground.

“ _Guardian_ ,” the knight calls to him, brushing past Ramia and addressing Abelas as she stands before him. “ _Speak_.”

“ _It has been centuries my lady; we are all but lost since the Dread Wolf’s creation of the Veil_.”

“ _The people_?”

“ _Gone…or in slumber as you were_ …”

“ _And the gods_?”

“ _Sealed away, I know not where they are, only the Dread Wolf_.”

“ _That mongrel_ …” she seethed, teeth grit and her magic spitting like sharp pricks of fire around her. Abelas chances a glance, hoping to quell the righteous fury before him.

“ _You know of Mythal’s fate? Of how she was slain? Whatever was left of her resides in Fen’harel, with her power he wishes to restore our world but at great cost.”_

“And I need your help to stop him!”

Both elvhen stare back to Ramia, her hands are balled into shaking fists at her sides as she addresses the knight. Abelas’ eyes widen at her rudeness, while the woman before him betrays no sign of insult she regards Ramia with thinly veiled annoyance. He dares not beg the warrior to stop when she slowly approaches Ramia, but the blood in his body pumps faster with every step she takes towards the frightened girl.

It takes a moment for Ramia to realise she had spoken in common, the giant of a woman staring down at her both in distaste as well as slight confusion at the foreign words that had spilled carelessly. Ramia straightens, calls to the well to help her speak in her tongue.

“ _I woke you from Uthenera to help me stop Fen’harel, he turned your world to rubble and would reduce my own to ashes in his stupid attempts to bring Elvhenan back_.”

“ _And why should I and my warriors follow you? What are you to command me_?” the warrior questions, her arm spreads out to signal the many tombs. “ _We were the pinnacle of what the lowest of the people could be, we answered to none but the All-Mother, would you be so arrogant as to cast yourself at her side_?”

It was a trick question, they both knew well enough the answer and Ramia had no intention of being beaten to a pulp to even attempt to make such a statement.

“ _I don’t. I’m not here to demand your service, I want you as an ally_.”

“ _For what purpose? Why should I care for this world,” the woman’s eyes narrow further at her, “or its creatures_ …”

“ _Because we are people, **your people** , would the well of sorrows accept me if I wasn’t? Would a lowly creature be able to reach your sanctuary and awaken you?”_

There is no surprise on the knight’s face, the voices of the well did little more than sing and rejoice the moment she had awakened. No doubt the elvhen woman could sense them, which was perhaps her only saving grace from the ire tightly controlled behind that calm veneer.

“ _Abelas said Mythal’s Knights protected her people, I doubt allowing millions to die should be allowed to stain your legacy…milady_.” Ramia finishes the statement with a bow of her head, and prays the silence that follows is a sign of contemplation on the woman’s part.

“ _Sentinel_.” Abelas stands immediately when addressed. “ _You stand in her company_.”

“ _I do_.”

“ _Fen’harel truly means to destroy this world? To risk the death of innocents?”_

“ _He does_.”

The knight lets out a heavy sigh, her brows furrow deeper as her lips curl again in disgust. A golden glow emanates from her hands.

“ _He would doom us all again.”_

_“While our people may survive the reality is uncertain, the elvhen of this time would perish without a doubt, I could no longer in good conscience stand at his side with this knowledge,”_ Abelas holds a hand over his heart as he addresses his superior eye to eye. “ _The Dread Wolf holds the sway of many, and his power continues to grow, that is what brought us here.”_

With a nod, the golden light lengthens. A lance stands in its place, as well as shield that forms in her free hand. She turns to Ramia, chin shifting upward to signal the girl to stand. Ramia bolts up, hands fidgeting in front of her as she swallows a lump in her throat.

“I am Shivana young one, I will awaken my brothers and sisters and we shall depart. We will pledge ourselves to your cause, and even should your soul pass this world before your task is done we shall see it through.” Like a chorus all the tombs begin to open, and warriors identical in armour to Shivana’s come forth just as grand and large as the woman herself.  “We will protect our people and yours both, this we promise to you.”

“Thank you Shivana.”

“You have yet to show yourself worthy, but your cause is just, this is what we pledge ourselves to. Remember this.”

Ramia nods vigorously at Shivana, unable to hide her smile and relief.

Shivana gives a curt nod before leading all of them back up towards the surface. Isabella and Fenris both swiftly moving out of the warrior’s way and huddling closer together. A low impressed whistle pushed from Isabella’s teeth. A large grin thrown in Fenris’ direction.

“She an eye-full isn’t she?”

Fenris groaned, “don’t even think about it Isabella…” The entire exchange between the three elves from before a blessing to have done and dusted as far as he was concerned. “Let’s just get out of here before anything else ridiculous can happen.”

 

* * *

[Keep up to date on what's going on my tumblr <3](mindtrove.tumblr.com)

 


	21. Author's note

Hey guys....

So it's been a while without an update. I'm currently in University at the moment and things are being thrown at us left and right. I have a lot to be stressed about, so even if I could find the time to work on the final chapter (yup the second part of this story is coming to a close before the third and final one starts up lol) i really find the struggle to be in the right frame-set and mood to work on it.

So it's kind of created a bit of a writer's block for me.

I'm really sorry about this guys! I really want to work on it but I have to put my studies first, but I also didn't want to leave anyone reading this story hanging and wondering when the next update is gonna be.

My next holiday won't be until mid december, where I can properly devite my time to making the story as good as I can.

 

Until then, [i'm still active on tumblr](mindtrove.tumblr.com) and is pretty much the best place to get in contact with me. I'm happy to do short little drabbles or prompts or even just answer any questions you guys have about my characters etc.

There is quite a few of you subscribed to the story, and it would be pretty cool to interact with you guys :)

 

Once again, sorry for the postponing but I hope you understand why lol

 

Take care <3


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